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Do You Hear Me?
I thank you for your failure, ears.
I bless your poor performance, dears.
An anvil cracked or mangled stirrup too?
Your eardrum blown? Your wax in fact now glue?
There was an age I cursed your flaws,
but years have slowed my ire to a pause.
Now, ears, you see, I must explain,
so I’ve penned this poem to spare your parts the strain;
when you showed up to work on time,
I heard every word of every whine,
and the traffic sounds that never ceased?
Now bother me not in the least.
I no longer hear soul’s broken screams;
no alarm cuts short my dreams.
So, I/'/m letting you off the hook,
but we’ll keep this one off the books;
if word gets out, then troubles start;
I won/'/t live long should your attitude
embrace my beating heart.
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