By Ben ConwaySix weeks in,no pun intended.Do you see how it seemslike we all weren’t offended.Drawn and quartered,a somewhat appropriate portion.Of somethingworth seeing to see.A lesson reminded,to be child and align with.That silly sideforgotten in threes.So this is,is where I call it.“don’t be that kid".Arrogance, entitlement.Like our balls or appropriate otherare swollen.Looking down like pigeons,that crown London roofs.Cacking all over,necks stretched out to prove.I did it myself.So laugh while you read this.Brought from inside,my regent defeatist.But who are weto hammer the gavel.And why are we ableto gabble the gabble.When standards are high,I was more than surprised,We weren’t long themand we weren’t long trying.So just chime to the czar.Forget who you wereand become who you are.Utterly deliberate.Hypnotic and rhythmic.Dumbfounded with oohs and arrs.In the last draw of breath,I want to contest.The people we may have become.
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