Villain

Lo there he strides, the boy who thinks himself a man.
Hero they call him.
He is no friend of mine.
He wears his heart on his left sleeve,
While flaunting his power on the other.
No wonder the boy is in possession of such an arrogant handshake.
But these qualities are mere nuisances, not enough to push me over the precipice of irritation ~
And into the ravine of contempt.
Perhaps it is his naive capacity for joy,
The ignorance characteristic of our protagonist.
He probably dictates his own narrative.
More likely, my contempt stems in that he paints me the villain,
Or even the Fool.
Well, I refuse to be his jester.
Who am I? If I had a name I might offer it to you.
Then again I might not.
I am the lesson on this journey,
Blatantly ignored.
My road leads off the beaten trail.
I am the one,
the old, fragile man forgot,
When he told the tale,
Of his youth.

Advertisements

About Fredrik Kayser

Everything is connected.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s