Flattery: A Barbed Crown
I never could understand
Whether to be flattered;
With head turned up to the clouds,
Or stand back and be suspicious.
While the fire of criticism,
Welds my mind back to sense.
Prudence is at risk of being washed away,
By the soft rain of flattery.
A twist of your tongue…and,
Words rolling off of it so smoothly.
Must’ve been practising for years,
You don’t have to be trippin’ out over me like That!
Listening to the aye-sayers;
Paying heed to the nay-sayers.
I’ve learnt that flattery leads you everywhere
Your foot wants to land.
Beware; fluttery flattery flattens all,
Hear the sycophants and flatterers.
But what matters in the end,
Is the voice between your ears.