Machiavelli. A poem.

You are my Machiavelli,
tug my strings until
I scream.

Your ceaseless manipulations
keep me dancing to
your whims.

While I smile and play along
as I always will,
it seems,

be my lonesome Machiavelli
and spend some time
with me.

Advertisements

Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: