Vem var Shaun Colt? - original poetry, exclusively for Steemit

He was the older brother, sometimes
hiding behind a little mirror,
peaking at you coyly through his fingers,

simpering at what he thought of as
Les petites absurdités des hommes,
and you in particular, my old mate.

The first begotten, his precedence
he deeply felt to be a natural law,
shutting and bolting the door to reason:

To support his thesis, in his right,
he conned an ancient text, carefully
faked in the establishment colleges,

and after breakfast, each and every day,
wrote five hundred words of measured prose,
typing and thinking, and picking his nose.

---

The poem and the images are my own.

Thank you for reading, @richardjuckes