Word of the Day Challenge #112-Untitled Poem

Barricade
desk to door
chairs piled high
curtains drawn
malicious grin
creasing face
one who claims 
despot 
as true title of rule.
Domineering 
loud
uncouth
drooling dolt
sycophants 
yes men
wiping away
propping up
illusion of love
fantasy of grandeur
battle lines drawn
such a sore loser.
Tiny toy pistol
waving plastic saber
thumb sucking
wailing 
feet stomping
on your back
like a turtle 
unable to get up.
watched with amazement
rooms 
far 
wide
bet you did not know
your office was bugged.
 
©Aug. 29/20
Picture via Pinterest

Final Escape

Looking around

where

how

can you hurt him?

Easy enough

leave

destroy

take him for financial gain

your heart never his

and steal his last hope.

With this last ploy

your colors fly true

showing the witch you are;

know you have lost

he will return no more.

Like a small child

you stomp your feet

mouth twisted in a scream

false tears

meaningless words

a conniption fit

missing only

the kicking

the pounding

the sense of entitlement

that truly makes you

the bitch you are.

Photo by Avgust Chech on Unsplash