(Sonnet for the Wannabee)

You pretend that which is not and which has never been
And speak of feats you never saw nor were ever done.
Naught will you ever know for slyly backward you do lean
To listen to the memories exposed and open to the sun.
What truths have you for those lives that you claimed to save?
(And by history’s page can never prove an honest claim to same)
It was never a preordained duty to Holy Script or Holy Writ
That you implanted, within another, a sense and grain of fame.
To leave your empty hovel floored with mud and dirt and grit
and then upon others to rudely heap the blame and shame
Is to sadly, badly, condemn yourself to drown in liar’s spit
God damn you, you who seek baptism in the flame of others’ fame.

I pray that into the devil’s hell, your lies and shame be cast
That no longer do you have to, from truth and heartsease, fast.