I feel so weary.
My eyes are bleary too.
Could this moment get any worse?
Worser, worsest as I spew words,
more than few amount to nothing, and lesser still;
the moment drags with the tick of the tock,
the grind of the mind,
and the shift of a glance from an unwelcome foe.
O' unsymphonious land, run by mute oppressors
whose goal is silence
and harmonious intellectual monotony;
Then crucify me you crone!
I will not obey;
not ever, not today.
Stares to glares, Medusa has her grip.
Circling not once but twice, in flight she dives.
In fear you squeak, in fear you hide.
The serpent's ally, the devil's maid;
in seconds the truth is told;
the books not lost but merely held!
Eyes like slits, and fists a clench.
Passion stirred; and anger brewed.
I but a mouse beneath the breath of fire;
with velocity and with grace,
I make a dash, and boldly I skitter past.
A chase commence, mouse in lead,
the snake a sibilant slither on the twisted path.
I've met my match, I do not stand a chance.