Sob Sister Fell on Her Sword
Sob Sister Fell on Her Sword. She declined to Renew Her Invitation to the Disease of the Month Club by Ending it All in One Final Gesture.
You look at my like unfamiliar terrain you thought you knew so well.
You search the portals of my Eyes seeking redemption. 404 Message Not Found.
She realized that She had become a source of entertainment and jest. An Object of Pity and Not So Secret Scorn.
She issued an Edict, Going forward There will be No More Celebration of sickness, illness or disease! NEVER AGAIN!
Is this the real me or shall I search for another? Which version? Which flavor? Which make and model?
She laughed with the Wisdom of old age and hindsight. Laughing their words to scorn.
I am Not the Story you Created for Me!
Floods quenched and extinguished the once Fiery Spirit into calm Lakes and gentle ponds.
You think that you know someone but you only know the mask they present to you on that specific day and time.
Don’t get it twisted!
You can never be sure who’s behind the mask.
The Main Ingredient — Everybody Plays The Fool
Paul McCartney– Fool on The Hill
Impaled Sob Sister Sank Deeper and deeper into the Ground which had turned to Quicksand eagerly anticipating its evening meal.
She died. She died. She died.
And We are So Glad that she’s Done.
Many Rivers to Cross by Jimmy Cliff