Minor Crimes

A watched pot never weeps
And what we say on winter days
is forgotten in our sleeps
or lost in ordinary ways.

Old dogs are already taught;
and whether good is bark or bite,
every moment is full and fraught
with our forgotten, irritated smite.


On another note:

All the King’s men might heal
hurt the royal dispatch brings
by turning from sycophantic kneel
to the benevolent task of killing kings.

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