The Enemy Of Glass

yes
the problem child is an enemy of glass
unless it was yours too
wouldn’t the chains on the bull
be a bane to your cool and crisp new life
if only you were chained too?
I think it’s strange how we change
the ways we think in terms of
night and day
go or stay
and remain our eyes upon the hilt
of a swords blade
resting thusly under my chin
taunting the neck which separates
me from it

we know it
we have done for long
the times have changed but not without the
baton
trading the hands that grip it so tightly
slipping from sweat and ever so slightly hoping it slithers away
between our fingers
and weight lifted
there are no winners
no medals gifted
there are no winners
haven’t we drifted
there are no winners
what’s wrong with the twisted
there are no sinners

ABOUT

(Liam J.D McNicoll) I work as a welder in Falkirk, Scotland and detest every nanosecond of doing so, these poems are a brief and silly escape.