Not Hardly A Lion

May 15, 2012
Forgive me for not knowing the misery you felt
when you were there on the fields.
I knew you were under par, but I did not care then and
do not care now.
Thought you out witted me? HA. I laugh at your thoughts.
You walk as if you are God, but only I know you are not.
I spit on the love you give to me.
I cleave the hope you feel.
I scorn your presence.
Do you not understand my hatred towards you, coward?
You hunch over, smoldering in your corner
quietly, wishing for the praise that won’t come.
Forgive me, but I judge.

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