Emma

Dear Emma, dear lot,
do you recall, you forgot?
Or is it this glistening hate?
That bedded your mind,
and left you behind,
now your clichés refuse to wait.

You’re a vowel of thought,
your faith’s shop-bought
a compliable empty craze.
It’s that faceless grin,
and split on your chin,
that envies the "less" of your days.

To hate you in word,
I believe is absurd,
it’s as cheap as what groans on your face.
You’re the lesser of two,
I mean me and you
you partition, you flap, you disgrace.

Dear Emma, dear friend,
past, present, and end,
this is it from here on out.
So jaded, goodbye,
hard-done-by? I try,
but no one will save you now.