It's too late to have explanations,
Bared and on the table.
That was done when you said you had no appetite.
But I watched you reach for dessert.
And you had no problem...
Feeding yourself with sweets.
And now you wish for a dish of reality?
Small enough...
So you can pucker up and peck,
For the taste of it to please!
This is not off a menu to be requested.
Or is there anyone here,
Waiting for you to digest it!
This is it as it is...
Whether or not you accept it that way.
And scratched is the soft music,
With a candelabra displayed.
And the candles were plastic.
Not waxed as you requested for your charade...
You wished to parade with serenade.
No one is left to please you like that.
Not here!
Only truth is served.
Deserving of it or not.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love it... I think this is a very nice piece of work.. Krista