"4.6 Of 30: Dethrone"

"Dethrone"

I'm sorry.
I don't feel you.
Don't know the real you...
and can't find reason to search.
Sniping from your perch
at the unsuspecting
hoping that somehow,
they will acknowledge you as sovereign...

...you resemble pollen
in the presence of the agitated
but no scoff or sneeze
will be lent to further your means.
You create the scene
to plow the indignant thoughts of masses
that would rather combat your helplessly
so that you receive some therapy:

Some time away from self.

How dare I not acknowledge
your penchant for power ups?
Who am I to clear the cache
designed to facilitate your mad dash
to hulk smash
and brow beat
and gender bash
and cat call
and blame it all on whole classes?

Crass and classless.
Balanced on axis
with nothing to revolve around you.

Who would want to?

I don't want you
 so there is no impression.
Undermine discretion.
No means of deception
aimed toward another
will endear me as your lover

and to you, my brother:

every sister
who will not let you enlist her
that refuses to answer to "mister"
and could care less if you're a good kisser
will lend no notice to façade.

Don't scratch your head.
Just look and nod

because honestly,

I'm not sorry
and I don't feel you
and we can't relate.
Nothing to debate
so that you feel great about yourself.

If you can "admit when I'm wrong,"

can you admit when you're lonely?
Be gone ye.

~ Society Of Poets ~

 ~ 30 ~

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz