I trusted you with a part of
me
I have never shared lightly
Or easily
I thought you cared
That you were my friend
You wanted to read my words
You said
And fool that I am
I believed you
Handed over my soul
Soap opera you said
And dismissed it all
Years of my thoughts
Conscientiously crafted
A share in all I ever had
In all I have ever been
If depth of heart and feeling
Produce soap opera plots
I am guilty as charged
I prefer to describe it in
other terms
Celebrating diversity
Striving to bring about
understanding
Offering kind compassion
Rising to spiritual planes
Planting the roots
Of broken human characters
And urging them to grow and
learn
Perhaps I grow and learn
Along with my people
Writing was never
First and foremost
About making a buck
(Though if I am honest
I must confess
Making a buck would be nice)
I bought my own words
With factory-earned money
From a seller of books
And sent them to you
As gifts
You said you wanted them
And I believed
Now those very copies
Are being sold
Used
Through your paltry claim in
That vast vendor’s
Empire
In quest of financial gain
My heart and soul
Mere clutter
In your shallow existence
Of money and
Empty possessions
You were never worthy
I wish I had known this
Or no
Believed this sooner
(Knowing and believing
Are two separate states)
Yet
Better to learn late
Than never
Goodbye
CP Warner
12 July 2019
