Second Fiddle

You’re a little brittle with your riddles and games, your girls and their names, the twirls and how you tame them, frame by frame. I won’t take part, when you start to chart all the hearts you’ve won, like a paragon, a phenomenon. You’re on, I’ll take you on till dawn. But don’t close your eyes, I see all your lies, whichever way you may want to rise anyway. You’re like a simpleton, ready to stun, ready to run, before I’ve even begun to shun your fun, feeling undone, feeling overrun with all the emotions you put into motion without devotion to the commotion of all the oceans around your little ribcage, on your little glib stage, with the curtains down, like all your frowns that drown out everything I had to tell you. And you’re so blue when I mention that I might go away, that I won’t stay if you run astray one more time, in disarray for another dime of someone else’s rhyme and reason, it’s treason for every season that I’ll have known, every second you’ll have blown in being where you said you wouldn’t be to me. I’m done and ready to get my gun, steady as the sun on a summer day, right into the fray, I’ll go down in a blaze of glory for every story you’ve ever told me, ever so bold to bleed the need right out of a smoky breath, a choked up death. No more, no more. I won’t let you belittle me and whittle me away, ’til I’m sore and you’ve settled the score. I won’t be caught in the middle, I won’t be second fiddle.

~Noct…………………