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Poetry Pleases: The Other Side

A life spent wreaking hate is her game...

Sonia Noble's memorable poem concerns a profoundly unhappy individual.

Sad, very sad. No insight at all.
How can it be possible...it just beggars all.

I try and try, to pacify and smile
No point, no change, she feigns and beguiles

Insecure and jealous, bitter and blue,
A lifetime spent trying her victims to stew

The window beckons, she canít move away
Strategically sidles popping up in the way

To report, to watch, sheíll twist and cause harm
She prompts her puppet when she herself canít

Tormented, on watch, isolation her aim
A life spent wreaking hate is her game

Upset and strife, the joy of her life.
Twisted and troubled, going in with the knife

She lurks with all stealth and loiters to find
To bury her nose and ears in whatís mine

Passers by donít escape, her gate is a trap
Sheíll poison those passing, inflame and stand back

The bus as well, she knows no bounds
Victims sat quiet, drawn in by her sounds

Questions she asks, who are you and where from
All in the pot, to spoil later on

Windows reflect activity outside
She grabs her pretext and strolls to her bin

Preventing my social hello and a smile
To thwart and sever her style all the while

Content then inside, until the next time
Acid bile gnaws again and she writhes sublime

Pleasant and helpful, smiling and true
It canít be difficult, if only she knew

She canít manage peace, and is lonely inside
You would think it obvious but she has no insight.

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