My Friend the Burglar

Oh you decrepit waste of air and space;
It pains me to even know you exist.
All the rage I hold fast within my fist
I will gladly plant on your dirt clad face.
You are a disgrace to the human race;
the mistake evolution must have missed.
Those were my wife’s lips your Mandrill fangs “kissed.”
Tonight, a spade for my queen, and you, Ace.

But who am I to dig a grave for two?
Today I am the do-gooder in white.
Today I am free, and you in a zoo.
Your future looks dull, while mine glistens bright.
You’ve earned my thanks, and my pity too.
May my planted fist of rage decay to blight.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem