Connective Cube

Poof.

Aloof I go, again.

Away from a truth you hold,

Yeah right,

I’m not sold.

I lack the fight to argue on point

To ace a hole in one,

To throw the ball in your arms,

To catch that fly,

No thanks, I’ll remain shy

To your charms while you tell me to bear arms

And offer to teach me to shoot a gun.

Instead, I run, so far away,

From wanting your rights.