Ha! Or Not!

Through and through,
It was solid,
You were certain,
Until things were revealed,
When up went the curtain.

Turns out underneath was tarnished,
And the gold was only varnish,
A coating so thin,
It could be cracked,
By just the prick of a pin.

Well it’s dreadfully degrading,
To an object’s rating,
When the cracked paint is peeling,
Being stripped away,
From floor to ceiling.

Ripped from it,
Faster and faster,
No stopping once it’s started,
Leaving it and all associated,
So very broken-hearted.

It’s been stripped bare,
There’s none left now,
But a stubborn speck,
Here or there.

Solid gold,
Was a facade,
A cover-up,
For something majorly flawed.

Severed Ties To Lies (Better Late Than Never)

It was freeing,
To watch them go,
Like I assumed,
But even more so.

Bye to the bitches,
Bye to the assholes,
Bye to you all,
‘Cuz I’ve regained control.

Unknowing wallowing,
Causing complete and total blinding,
Rendered unable of realizing,
The many possible alternate endings.

For a while there,
All seemed lost,
But answering the call,
Enabled the reclaiming of all.

An invisible mountain,
It blocked all else from sight,
But a few taps,
Was all it took,
To annihilate,
And change the course of fate.

To them all:
You weren’t nothing,
You weren’t shit,
Neither was I to you,
It just took a little longer than it shoulda,
For me to see through.

I’m awake now,
Wide awake,
The party is over,
And in the distance,
I spy a four-leaf-clover.

Freed From False Friends

Wow, has it been that long?
Wow, how time does fly,
Would I go back if I could?
Nope, I wouldn’t……….
Not me, not I.

Happiness it was not,
Just a false front,
A sham,
One that ought be broken down,
By a battering ram.

Thinking they are,
High and mighty,
They fly flags of disgrace,
It is a most,
Ungodly place.

Full of fools,
And laden with liars,
Tongues continuously wag,
Making it blaze,
With figurative fires.

Oh, the many memories!
But I guess the new fruits here,
Are ripening fast,
Because what was once matchless,
Now has me aghast.

Ran by agents,
Sent from Satan,
It’s by no means a place,
For a Child Of The King,
To show their face.

A sickening sight,
It was to see,
And I’m glad the place,
Is no longer,
Graced by me.

Diabolical Agenda

A pretty face,
How does she act,
In such disgrace?

So very sweet,
But hated,
For those moments she acts,
With complete deceit.

Nothing can hold a candle,
To when she flies off the handle,
So glad she’s not the norm,
For she is a God-awful,
Wicked form of storm.

Fake as fuck,
And slimy like,
The fingers of,
A little tyke,
She needs to take a hike.

Pretending to be,
Such a honey,
But she’s got something hidden,
On her back,
That makes her mean,
As lucifer’s queen.

So sneaky,
Don’t ever get too close,
That pleasantry is false,
Just waltz right by,
For she’s looking for information,
To use against you,
On the sly.

To sum it up,
She’s a waste of space,
Who needs to learn her place.