I hate my smile and I could say it’s because I have bad teeth, fell on the stairs, hit with a baseball bat amongst other things but words can be just as damaging to be sure and my words well… Grin’s Fairytale, weren’t “Grimm’s Fairytales” horror
Because I can’t stand to “sup”
or suspend, the words blurry.
I can’t help but worry
as I latch on, again and again
to hmm, oh, I stand in awe
though there is no God
present, he need not hurry
as I have not grown up;
and since when has any man been enough?
“Oh, yes, there will be blood” Jigsaw
spilled his guts but oh when, oh when
will I say the right word to win?
It’s a setup,
when I thought she was a friend
but a stranger, and the skin
I’m guilty; who am I to say Nah,
to cry, to scream, to laugh, ta-ta
Instead, I offer no sound, no fury
for judge, jury, executioner I draw
no excuses for my shame, as my jaw
knows I should shut the hell up
My every thought, word, and dream a sin
Swallow them, here’s my shit eating grin
Copyright © 2017, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.