Wednesday, 26 May 2010


they tell me that you cannot know,
the pain inside the heart,
of a person devoid of roe,
of ice cream and of tarts.
is it worse than giving birth?
is it worse than death?
is it worse than lost first loves?
or worse than a hog's breath?

is it as bad as pms?
as bad as sinful desire?
is it like a trailer wreck?
one with a burning tyre?
i don't know how i can explain,
the feeling oft described as pain,
but if you have, say, half a brain,
i hope none of this is in vain:

because truly, madly, can't you see, one can only empathise,
with another when he ups and says ' 'tis i that i truly despise'.

1 comment:

etc said...

i've decided that my non-canonical rhyming scheme is so counter-intuitive, that it really isn't all that great. so, for now, i'll stick to the norm, and maybe when i can't get no. satisfaction. i'll try to be 'original' again.