you might try and tear me down.
but i’ll glue myself back together.
you might regress to infancy
and bang on your angry drums.
your selfish cloak of excuses
is full of ratty holes and frayed edges.
the sun is not brighter on the other side of earth.
you’re thinking of it upside down.
that smile you wear like a frown.
you’ve obviously mistaken me for a clown.
but go, go on down your fickle path.
taste the bitter fruit of your own disease.
sticks and stones do break my bones
and your words are cutting and harmful.
but time mends the broken boned and the broken hearted.
not the mean and spitefully departed.
so go on, go on to yonder greener field.
hoping you drown with the pond’s scum.