Patchwork

Patches & stitches

threads loose in ditches

of dark waters flowing

dirty words growing

dramas and ravings

depends on the cravings

whimsical moods

of insane stormy floods.

She wanders with hope

to find a victim to rope.

She talks to herself

like a witch or an elf.

Oh, the beauty of the beast !

she provokes and she insists.

Do you see her true soul,

dark,so bitter and cold ?

And she thinks she's a Queen!

Royalty, ha !...Have you seen?

With the crown of a clown

and a patchwork worn gown.

Her true colours don't shine,

opaque grays and dark browns

spilt all over her puppets,

a bunch of overdue muppets.

Virtual kingdom she thinks

she have gained... But stinks!

of rotten big lies

displayed for your eyes.

Do you buy what she sells?

Then prepare to know Hell!

I have warned you. Beware !

Not that I really care...