The Laugh That Is You Poem by essa boyer'

if i could cut me open and drain me dry I’d replace the gift you gave me
you sit their high atop a throne of your own imperfections
and still persist to humilate me
you are a coward in already sheepish clothing
your breath falling to a whimper at the mear thought of confrontation
you talk big but are too timid to act
petty words will run dry and sooner or later you’ll have to face go time
we are not fooled by your well of misgivings your garish avoidance
you are nothing
oh master of make believe
high king of all illusion
pirate of ideas that are not your own to share
feeding off the missinformed
you are the lord of nothing
and for that I mock you