Minority to ruleyou poet of a thousand words
with the grammatically correct personality.
where are all those pre-disposable idea's now?
your sentences, simple and now too few
are slipping from your grasp
through fingers too bruised and numb to feel a thing.
cracks have started to appear in your persona
and your precious majority
suspects, that which you fear most
your irrelevance has become undeniable.
now you are the one, being scrutinized
from behind one way mirrors..
good bye poet "of the age's"
i will miss you not, but
look forward to the permanent silence
now emanating from your battered voice
though more importantly, your pen.
clearly i still sit smug, as before
you should have known better
than attempting to try an please the world.
but i, with my mismatched lines
diverse as they are
will prevail where you have
met your most untimely end..