Geneva.

“Look at me! ¬†Look at me!”fame-clipart-woman-of-fame

The gangster does yell.

The social media Queen,

an Angel’s roommate in Hell.

The world needs to know her,

all must know she exists…

She’s loud and proud of her work,

and the Angel’s at risk.

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

A bad reputation…

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I’m tarred with a familiar brush,

the gossip mill runs riot.

My history isn’t in the past,

backstabbing isn’t quiet.

.

Foot in mouth…

Foot in mouth disease.

I tend to catch it with ease.

Once again I’ve been taught

to shut up til I’ve thought.

on this subject,

I’ve some expertise.

 

 

 

.

 

 

Word on the street…

Why doe’s it matter what they say?

They only know the rumour’s.

A reputation bought and sold,

by gossiping consumers

They have no clue of who I am,

defamation is their game.

 

It shouldn’t matter what they say…

But it hurts, all the same.

 

 

An overreaction…

A little wee molehill

started it’s day,

discussing a comment

it overheard someone say.

Words took on tones

and the tones became loud,

and the molehill grew bigger

with the noise of the crowd.

Tempers erupted

and proportions were blown,

and the molehill kept growing

each time anger was shown.

War was declared,

and so ends this recount,

of the little wee molehill,

that grew into a mount.

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

Fries, lies and alibis…

Hickory dickory doo

He swore to be loyal and true

But his lies are unravelling

with gossip that’s travelling

Hickory dickory doo.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Rumours…

He said, she said.

They have lots to say

Commentating my life

In a despicable way.

The facts aren’t important

when spreading a tale

The more drama the better

Juicy telling’s never stale.

My life sounds amazing

Wild antics galore

The grapevine will tell you

what I said, did,

and more.

I sit back and laugh

when I hear what I do.

I’d rather be living

 

than sit talking of you.