When a sadist, has his sorrow to look forward to.
And when a priest has got his easy money comin.
So does a millionaire has his millions at his feet,
And the dog’s got his bone waitin for him.
The cat, has nine lives
And the leprechaun its pot of gold.
What is left for a poet with his heart on his sleeve?
© 2008 BlacK_diamond_Bay
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/17678/109870 on Sunday November 23rd, 2008 04:35 AM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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