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A Warning to Dorothy

By Elise Bugeja

Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain For the man who sits behind it, is one who is uncertain Who is drunk on boast from various amorous connections And somehow has replaced his brain with a constant erection

Pay no attention to that man behind those drapes The ones I hung there with emerald fastens and filtered lace Such a character filled with wild fortunes did he display Intoxicated, I stumbled down his yellow brick highway

Spend no time dwelling on the man who can’t bring himself to look you in the eye For you sign the dotted line in blood for a promise you cannot deny. For he sits there hidden, that icy statue will only melt alone But the fumes off his balloon will make you think that you are home

Only what is a home when the house is hollow For home has blown to pieces, in windswept woe I’m left to wallow Never did he intend to play nor a promise had he planned Hold onto everything you have before the inevitable crash land

Don’t give a second glance to the person behind that screen. Because I was lying. I made him up. He’s as real as any figure in a dream. I thought I was old enough, to know what was good for me It seems greens aren’t what will make me tall and healthy I won’t grow up to be big and strong I’ll just be told all my decisions are wrong

There was never any default heal click That would wish away the truth that it was all some sick trick The man behind the curtain allowed for so much possibility And Of-Corse I believed it and honored him with unrequited civility Now I sit in my tower, with green infected complexion For his artificial brand on me is our only lasting connection

Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain For behind it you will only find the shell of a vacant person He’s a brainless, heartless, coward, nothing more He has no power that isn’t falsely endorsed by little people behind closed doors

Sometimes your black and white world is worth more than money can buy And sometimes rainbows were only meant to stay in the sky But the true love from straw, tin and fur help you share The tragic depth of the bullet hole that that wicked wizard left there


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