Too Little Be Late

by | Oct 8, 2008 | Poetically Correct

Why seek me now,
Like a last straw
Grasping to sustain
Your failing Law?
You mocked and judged,
You smeared my Name,
Played the nemesis
Of my brain.
You won on one level,
But lost a whole lot.
My voice and poetry
Long left this spot.
Buzzards take you home
You’ve earned this loss,
Now know that the Master
Is not always the Boss.
I speak no more.
God spare I return.
Crush their pursuits.
Mine Enemy burn.

Ciera S. Louise c. 10/08/08 rev. 10/12/08