The Rogue Turns 21

Murderous harlots,

Criminal trollops,

And other such vagrants

Gathereth here.

They bring you candles

And tall paper hats

To cherish your living

Another whole year.
They blow on noisemakers

And sing stupid songs,

Cut open your cake

With a cold-steel blade.

A few sacrifice

A goat in your honor.

Throughout it all

Your face remains staid.
As your friends dance

In your post-birthday haze

You lighten their purses

And head out the door.

You retire wealthy,

And don’t even mind

That your D&D group

Doesn’t like you no more.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poems, To the Reader

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s