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No more head games

Okay step away from the microphone
You have been living rent free
In my damn comfort zone

I mean it, step away slowly
All these theories you have
Heck, do you really know me?

No I don’t want to hear your prediction
Sorry to tell you, this is not my story
Even if it reads like well written fiction

You love to say that I failed
Would it kill you? Hopefully so
To acknowledge I prevailed

No more playing this head game
Tonight I’ll be the murderer
That no jury will ever blame

About This Poem

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: New York, USA

Favorite Poets: Cavafi, Sylvia Plath and Neopoet as a whole.

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Comments

Geezer

Geezer

5 years 5 months ago

I do believe...

I know what you're saying, and it speaks as well as it reads. But, I would rearrange the second line, third stanza, to say:
"Sorry to tell you, but ]that] is not my story. I think it makes it a bit clearer. Reads like a rap-battle!
~ Gee.
.

C

c lynn brooks

5 years 5 months ago

Paul

either you are throwing in the towel OR putting your foot down either way your anger is coming through loud and clear