Don'T Grieve, Leave! Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Deceived, grieve not but leave! Departing in a trice,
better alone than prone, pain tripled thrice.
'If of himself he will not love' advice
is academic, so why starve on rice
when heart and mind may find spring roll of dice
spin spare rib tasty? Hasty snap snare's splice.
Waste not one day, escape from prison vice,
abandon scoundrel to his own device.
May praise aloud from crazy crowd suffice
revising shaky rake from snaky vice?
Dance on, advance, leave loser to his lice,
uncompromising sample promised spice.
Terse verse advice cannot be more concise,
wench grieve not, take French leave, split! W[r]it precise!