Those

confused

souls

refused

(I wonder why)

to say who I am.

Lamborghini visions?

The best of the call troupe?

Bosoms out to… there?

And bare?

Such emptiness confuses

who I AM!

My laugh is pity

and almost scorn,

for I am torn

between sorrow and dismay

that they,

who know

WHOSE I AM,

refuse to say.

OY VEY!

So, kill me once,

shame on you.

Kill me twice?

Thrice?

I am your vice!

Be nice…

What joy is truth?

A tranquil peace!

So, cease

with this tomfoolery,

you…

who know who I am.