Puncture Wound

When you said that I should
Grow up, little boy
My tantrum was legend
My anger pretend

When you called me out
For some supposed affront
I was visibly offended
Not worth being defended

I threw my head back
With a puncture-wound laugh
Your upset was endless
At every infantile gaffe
Your number was up
Like you had some control
Our number was zero
My bridge ensconced troll

When something is missing
It’s not hard to see
The gaping hole in your heart
Pictured me to a tee
It’s impossible to be happy
When happy was ne’er found
So I picture you gone
Stop bringing me down

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This entry was posted in Poems and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Puncture Wound

  1. Nance says:

    Another beautiful piece of work Larry. It’s funny how much I relate to what you write.

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