Oh To Be A Fly Upon The Wall
Patience really is a virtue
From one set of ears to the next,
Word travels fast, especially when it’s wrong,
If you’ve nothing nice to say,
Then keep your words to yourself, where they belong.
***
I heard you ask,
And I live for the day when you’ll ask me,
Be warned, don’t ask if you don’t want the truth,
Because this particular question, it’ll be answered, you’ll see.
***
I can guarantee you’ll not like the answer,
Which I’m sure you’re already aware,
Hence why it wasn’t my ear that heard the question,
Oh no, it’s one you’ll not ask, you’ll not dare.
***
The answer is complicated,
Though not unanswerable, I’m sure,
It’s painful, memorable,
And it’ll even up the score.
***
Many wrongs have gone silent,
But it’s not me that you’ll eventually face,
The day you meet your maker,
Will firmly install you in that heated hell bound place.
***
I doubt you’d remember the motions,
The consequences inflicted from your actions,
Years have passed without your payment,
But there’s a ledger listing all outstanding transactions.
***
Overdue, oh yes there’s plenty,
And I’d love to be a little fly upon the wall,
When you stand and face the music,
On the day you receive your homing beacon call.
***
It’s no longer my place to explain,
The marks that now blacken your soul,
Payment will be extracted,
For all those dreams and hopes you stole.
***
Sure I may be broken,
Life has been tough and the lessons hurt,
Remember Karma doesn’t forget,
And you’ll get your just dessert.
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****
Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.
If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.
Originally posted on Medium
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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In the stillness of the northern woods, Where the pines stand tall and the air Is crisp with the scent of pine needles and earth, I find you, my love, in the whisper of the trees, In the gentle rustle of leaves, in the quiet Moments that speak of a love As enduring as the forest, as timeless as the stars.
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Comments (2)
Wonderful piece. Well done.
Oooo, Karma will never forget and I too would love to be a fly on the wall when they get served their dessert! Loved this so much!