This was my second poetic challenge attempt, so I wanted to make this poem jump... here it is:
"Objection!" you say,
as your finger points my way.
You slam the desk and move your mouth
but the word gets in the way.
My rebuttal may not sway you,
but my coffee might persuade you-
if I chuck it in your face, that is.
But that would be a waste;
I'd have to brew some more
and it's expensive to replace.
Glug, glug Ah~
The good kind anyway...
like the kind we shared that day
after the case with Maya Fey.
You remember that, Trite-
I mean, Wright?
Glug, glug ah~
Wut'chu nodding your head no for?
Don't I amuse you?
Let's do it right!
I think it went like:
"There's blood on the knife?"
The killer had no blood on his clothes,
no visible wounds from head to toe,
so where did the blood come from?
Do you know?
So you do...
It must be that spirit that I saw beside you-
Mia chose you to live through you, not I,
but, I know why.
It's why I wear this mask: my pain.
The reason smoke escapes my brain
when I get mad, 'cause I'm to blame!
Mad at you for failing to do;
what I couldn't do
because of you-
Or so I thought,
but, I guess not;
through my red tears, I saw you anew.
So here's to you,
How's about a little coffee?
Glug, glug, glug Ah~
Mine's all gone.
I really feel like this is one of the most epic wins of my creative career. >>