Consider this your Christening.
I’m starting to love.
To begin a new.
Old friends, same story.
Like old hair that grew.
Kept me warm, placid.
Nice to be knew.
Then chopped and broken.
Doused like after shave acid, caustic and drastic.
How friendships are like a frozen elastic.
Pliable, amiable, broken in two.
You fancy adding cold?
It’s broken in two.
…Stop…leave me be.
….you want a reaction? Want something to see?
A chaotic elaboration?
Raise the bar, flip off a nation?
Beyond jurisdiction you’re a work of fiction.
You spew allegations to which nobody’s listening.
You cause your own hurts through your reasoning system.
Illogical expectations through excuses not building.
Your torment, your choices, your words, your christening.
All tied in chains with the dreams you’re imprisoning.
Then you’ll complain that nobody’s listening.
What a joke, as you stand the whole church is whispering.
To pacify your hurts you claim agents of mistrust.
All in the name of your own lack of guts.
© G.P Williamson 2018