Member Blog Post

(Yes I know it’s supposed to be spelled another way but I’m making a point on a name)

CASAROLE:

What does he see in her, that I do not already possess?

Perhaps it’s the cash she gives him while flaunting her fake-ass breasts.

That have to be false because deep down inside she lacks a heart.

Always a woman wanton of mass attention and been that way from the very start.

Her eyes do blast like the colors of the sky

and her hair bleached blonde of heavens so fair.

Her body gave out in 40 years, a couple or three kids,

but rocks better then mine often bids to scare.

Alas but I see, her insides are uglier then a modern art masterpiece.

When will he ever see what resides there, what really lies beneath?

Am I so hopeless thus, not to thee contest?

Wanting to put a stake through this vampire’s empty chest.

Because Casarole beat me to the score of a dark man deplored,

whom I loved so deeply and so unjustly surrean.

That every time he called on my new found feeling’s core,

I half wondered if he was always just a passing dream.

Never feeling this way or has been a long time since,

but if I warn him, I’ll seem way out of my league of sense.

For others had left her outside the parlor door

and he’s kept her “friendship” around for maybe something more?

Why doth thou taunt me with unattainable love?

What curse is this that must have been ordained from above?

That ceases my sleep and brings my heart to the stove.

Casarole is my beef and her expressions have me deplored.

Is he totally overlooking the harm she’s been cooking?

While everyday I find out so much, much more.

Was I such a fool to let my heart again swoon?

This pain of loneliness is so difficult to at times to endure.

Maybe I should’ve said the words, those three simple curbs,

but was afraid in all of “flat land” he’d run to the hill.

Although folks say such about having lost and loved,

for me those new feelings are not exactly a thrill.

So what of her cover, Oh yes, she’s an author.

That gives indigestion of slander come a mess.

Wondering what new misfortune she’ll now choose to ponder,

when tomorrow sports leftovers of my love lorned quest?