Poem -

The Jesters Game

I may be weird

but

what are you?

the look of envy is absent from my life

yet you choose to strike at me with flimsical chords that fall on deaf ears

the grin across my face precedes that which I choose to hide

does your wife cheat on you? or perhaps your mother never loved you

regardless I see your weakness and raise you 10 fold

you words they cannot hurt me, I sit here right as rain

yet your blinded by hate and chased by retribution

and as a outlaw on the run from such and institution, you would stop and choose to strike at me, and call me the fool?

"Indeed"

so who's the real fool, me or you?

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