The Sad & Lonely Tale of a Man With a Broken Filter

I have a little issue;
My words come filter-free.
What I think is what you hear;
No tact or subtlety.

A bull attempting dressage
Whilst shopping for some plates.
Smashing fragile porcelain
At monumental rates.

I have my many haters
(Perhaps those more uptight).
Ones that don fake angel wings
And halos spun with spite.

As in most elections,
The truth must take backseat.
Politics go hand in hand
With lies and plain deceit.

If I do not like you,
If I don’t agree,
If I think you’ve done it wrong
Why forge dishonesty?

What you see is what you get
I’m quite the open book.
You may not like the tale, but Hell,
It needs no second look.

The face you see me always wear
Is brash but it is true.
Two-faced insincerity?
I’ll leave that up to you.

Diplomacy’s a twisting tool
To calm when sides confront.
But, sadly it’s a skill I lack
And hence, I’m such a cunt.

About the Author

Benedict Francis

Benedict Francis

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