The words flow by without
so much a sigh
Hearing it’s a lie, and to
ponder why.
So many do cry from words
up on high
Others do try but only
manage goodbye
No Trip or trill, never
heeding of spill
Helping you still, to
succumb to their will
Not using a pill or
drinking their swill
They’ll have their good
fill without any bill
Its magic they say, for
use you will pay
Likely today, there’s no
other way
No use to belay, you
cannot betray
You are nothing but hay
and potters clay
©2010-2011 Michael Yost booguloo@live.com
