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Image for the poem Twaddle

Twaddle

Falling from a split tongue
your promise means nothing
empty words from an empty man

every Queen has a Jester
carry on fool
juggle balls
 
your folly taken to far
amusement died a long time ago
insulting buffoonery best left for the streets and pubs

my smile is one of boredom not beguilement
again you've mistaken me for a commoner
false tales spun by a dark larker are stodgy, tiresome

had this been another time it would be off with your head
I'm no medieval monster so its be on your way
I refuse to hear any more of your vile words

  
 
Written by nikkimoe
Published
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