
Some people don’t know when to stop,
can’t see that it’s over, so they stagnate
in their vicious campaigns
to put themselves in the limelight, regardless of what’s happening backstage,
these narcissists with no shame
and unearned rage.
Let me tell you something about rage—
Once it starts, it doesn’t stop,
it has no shame,
doesn’t know how to stagnate
or stay out of sight backstage.
No, it is compelled to campaign.
Some people can’t simply dislike me; they have to campaign
against me, kindling my rage.
You might not see me eavesdropping backstage,
nor understand why you should stop
letting your jealousy stagnate
you and drown you in shame.
What a lousy feeling, shame.
It starts small, grows to the size of a presidential campaign,
taking over the airwaves, making hope stagnate
before disintegrating into rage
that nearly makes your life stop,
pushing you into the shadows backstage.
I don’t belong backstage
cloaked in shame,
so I make it stop,
end your campaign
of senseless rage
too shallow to stagnate
I know the place where the river slows until it stagnates.
I know what it takes to succeed backstage.
I know, too, where the river rushes in rage,
why you feel so much shame
that you had to run a campaign
to make your idea of me stop.
Now I watch you stagnate in shame
and run your backstage campaign,
too saturated with rage to know when to stop.
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
Intrusive rhyme bothers me, except as a weapon.
Intertextuality is my passion.
Formalist/ New Critical are my guiding theories.
My words are mine, not a robot’s.
MA English literature, CofC
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