Those Who Wronged You

by , under Ancient Personal History, Poetry

 

You mere scarecrow
again and again in my youth
You, bully, your shotgun in my face
I found a way to back down, with grace

Oh you wise men
said this as such would happen
again and again, a safe bet
and you bet on it and the bookie

called all the clever fellows
the deceivers, pretending as you do
to risk everything, anything at all
to call. You are, called,

remembered. Oh, but now
old as the luck you possess
allowed it hides these images
unavenged. These who wronged you.

Don't just stand there.