3 of 5

FREE AND CLEAR
VERSES PENNED ON CONTROL'S END

I just don't get it; I'm confused.
You leave me much less than enthused.
The mind games, puzzles, run-around
Have run our simple ship aground.

Confusion is your favorite game;
You lob your fireballs of blame,
Slip pointless promises my way;
I can't believe a word you say.

My dialect, you reconstruct;
My intellect, you interrupt.
But truth still triumphs, as it shows,
And everyone, your secret knows.

You trumpet your ideas extolled,
Presuming to be self-controlled.
But master of none more are you,
Although you claim to own a few.

For tyranny, rebellion breeds,
And intimacy then recedes.
Can any throne be worth the cost,
When you consider what you've lost?

Learn more about this author, Linda Ann Nickerson.
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