Eustace Scrubb
Bio
I'm just telling the truth
Stories (2/0)
betrayal, deception
Isn’t it ironic //That people can fake authenticity //It fills me with nonfictional rage //Rage that could send me to hell //I know my fickle heart //I shared it //Trusted you to treat it gently //You are the one who should be scared of the fiery lake// But you look around and point to others //Claiming they made your bed //But you picked out the sheets //Chose the color blue// Even though you were offered opportunity// I wanted you to be truly known //You wouldn’t let me// You still sang the soft melodies //Somewhere only we know// Are you feeling sad cause you did a bad thing?// Playing the part// A wolf in sheep’s clothing //Claiming to honor story and justice //When really you are a robber //A traitor telling my stories as your own// You preached your mythology// I didn’t know you were taking notes from the soldiers who hid //You stomped on our sacred soil like they took down Troy //I hope you enjoy your counterfeit sorrow //No one will come rescue you //Your home is built on sand //And there will be no one left to blame but you// You’re not my friend// It takes a coward //To stab between shoulder blades// To crouch away from the whites in our eyes// You think if it’s subtle //You can cling to your innocence //Your betrayal is my retribution// Because only you are denounced //Karma soothes my soul //While you tremble in its wind
By Eustace Scrubbabout a year ago in Poets