If Pride Went Tumbling

Pride—

pharisaical,

and truly parasitical,

I feel you cling to me;

dangling from my members.

Like mistletoe,

with a kiss so smooth,

though deadly.

 

Pride—

so serious,

yet ultimately ridiculous,

I’ve let you ride me;

put a bridle in my mouth.

Like a monkey,

on my back you drive me,

and you goad me.

 

Pride—

you’ve put me on parade,

and made me your showhorse:

I jump, I dance, and I prance,

to win the prize,

before my eyes,

manufactured by your trance.

 

You’ll whisper in my ear I know,

a secret tale of fear,

and woe:

you and I are a chimera,

from our head down to

our toes.

 

Oh pride—

What would you do though,

if I no longer allowed you?

 

Without your sweet mirages,

your tantalizing images:

my life no longer just a vapor,

a falsity and nothing more,

if you tumbled from my back and

my proper vision were restored.

 

~FS

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