and thought 'shit. It's Saturday'
and it's not like nothing happened
Oh yeah that shit happpens
day after day
week after week
to all and sundry.
Then comes the referee.
The final decision. The period . dot.
And this is where the bravery of the poet
the storyteller will force you
or him/herself to continue
and even if you don't the scriber knows
your emotions already
poured out irrespective
becoming a circus while your anger is
harboured
but
by the time we come around again
angry as you were
now you crave
an autograph.
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