But You Ain't


come up to me and sit

sit so close all up on

my space

I like to watch you speak

and pretend that you really

have friends but



come up to me and sit

real close, watch as my

fist comes up and

pops you one right in the nose

your friends (imaginary they are,

just as imaginary as the scene you go

through here)

they rush around, oh no

what happened to you?

they all say

and to your feet you are lifted

to stay... hopefully

You're mad now! FINALLY,

some other emotion besides stupidness

you feel

exhale out  don't

hyperventalate yet,

oh, never mind

go ahead

I don't want to see you

hear you

feel you

in the same room again

stay away or an eye might

be forced through to the

back of your brain

View lavalady's Full Portfolio
vipervenomnu's picture

This is an angry poem. The key is to leave it up to the imagination. What, you might ask, should you leave up to the imagination? That is up to you. Too much and you are not understood. Not enough and all understand but can't relate. Good job on leaving it up to the imagination.