Beaten

Maybe that’s because you haven’t accomplished a damn thing,
exactly why my nose is now broken in three places, crying baby,
thanks mostly to your pretentious opening for my requested faith,
and the moment when I realized as much was obviously too late.

This again can’t be actually true either since their story bitterly lies,
just read the stupid mess for once instead of assuming the worst of me,
or of everybody else, for that matter, you self-righteous self-hater,
living as long as you can bring us all down to your severed dumbwaiter.

We’ve already been over this enough as well with you on the losing end,
you don’t expect folks to be grateful for their pain, so that shouldn’t matter too,
but of course you ignorantly do without a meaningful defense besides imagine,
calling as many around to preach about something that couldn’t have happened.

Decidedly mentioned possibly a few times prior to revealing your sewing gear,
firm with its probing through each of your robust digits into a strapping fist,
strung across that golden black book always in front catching your tumble,
in mind all along from your loud-mouthed origins self-proclaimed as humble.

Reality tells quite a different record with your annoying skips, pops, and scratches,
suffice to say, there’s no more so-called clever alterations in order to glamorize,
now we have your spiteful confusion honestly simplified upon every curious table,
showing in this final bow of yours that you were a little more than only mislabeled.

There will be no retirement when these pitiful years abroad don’t ask for such,
held above, thrust on any client’s hook to be tortured further during deliberations,
formulating a scene never practiced, yet feared while you merely swore otherwise,
until your torn curtain is draping your naked body as a very poetic last disguise.