Merle Bush

Don't want your help with my songs, you see
Because you say that, '...it's all about me...'
Friday you thought that I was fast asleep
Into your psyche my intellect seeped

Since you say it’s all about me
Your words shall be your destiny
Shocked into knowing that I’ve neglected
The person whom I've resurrected

Spit-in-face, fire haired bona fide fright
Surprised and puzzled by the sight
Just think, I thought that it was all about thee
The Lord thanks you for your honesty

Thought it was about thine, those and thus
I pray not, in the fabulous, I trust
After all the trials that I’ve been through
Did you think that it was all about you'?

Labels: Poetry Only Poetry