Vote: Not Leaving

I will not be ashamed
a lurking lackey only
a coward's hand
at my throat
and termination's
bosom make a flower
wilted for my own.

What have I to say
and what have I said
and what yet
that lies unsaid
that I should wait
and stew
and crust
and waiver
in a fear of saying
this is who I am
and this is where I go
and this is what I do
and for what?

Some amateur has lost
a wayfard way
a stumbling darkness
and in pretense
has missed
the scheme of all
that I have said
when bread crumbs
shallow depth
and some sour dourness
of heart has broached
and seemed a note
to play
there in the dark?

I will have none
of it, and do with thumb
in teeth and finger risen
high upon Olympus,
breathing I will
and those who cannot
or do not have the will
let them go
or stay
or have
or leave
or have their leave
but I will
until the last breath
be forever more
myself and only,
even if forever lonely,
myself.

This is the fate
of those who would speak
and have a voice
and be listened to
even in a hard moment.

Read then these words:

I will not bend,
although you might,
and then we will find
your bending bed
a plea
for just such attentions
as I will give you here,
in a word,
or two,
your own.

runningturtle87