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Trickster
January 6, 2015
A new face has made its way
Into this world.
A wail forces me
To be content in its existance
Call to me young wailer
I'll beckon if I must.
Oh what Joy
You've stayed your
Retchedness
For yet one more evening.
To think she bled for your design
You now cry to
Add insult to injury.
You're devious,
Trickster.
Yet who am I to blame
You for your
Nature
For you're alive
And I am less
There's naught to differ.
© Mary A., Fullerton, CA
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