Say now what thous't think of me in silence,
As then claim and defame mine frame, nonsense,
Heareth I did, lies and stories from thee,
Told unto others, wench, why not to me?
Thou holds't the power to sway one's beliefs,
for thou, a lass, proclaimed pure, innocent,
Who now, alas, just fabricates all the ifs,
Thy bow, thy cast, thy cheap play costs a cent,
Thou, bitch, a wench, true old school Maleficent.
Now mine name holds't naught proper dignity,
As the truth now looks unclear, translucent,
And this circus circling iniquity,
Devoid of what shouldst be pure clarity,
mine morrow, truly, utterly shitty.


© johndavidday