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He looked up to look down on me
What put him where he could not see?
What spun his head that he’d believe
In his own lies to self-deceive?
I told his sullied soul truth hurts
One day he’d reap his just desserts
He’d plagiarised words for profit
My words to fill his money pit!
I said his flaw was in his head
A better man would just have read
Another could not get along
Her habit to squeeze toothpaste wrong
Why couldn’t he just bend it back?
What past grief caused his soul to lack?
© Zora Zebic 2016