Peasant

Peasant

Do you remember calling me that?

With a jovial expression?

Whimsical obsession

Of  attempting a laugh out of me?

Peasant

For you have money

And I do not?

Is that the reason why I rot

Away with this thought of fighting you?

Peasant

Do you even know the meaning?

A low down, unsophisticated, cur

But between us, dear sir,

I am clearly superior

Peasant

That is what you are

For I am a diamond bursting from the earth

Not some rich man’s serf

I flow with otherworldly diction

You Peasant,

I walk with steps designed by God

And speak with a fine grace

Dear Sir, it is time that you face

Reality, I am the prudish portrait of perfection

Peasant

Let this be a warning to you

And all those that follow

This lady will not wallow

In your pond of insults

Peasant

I do not forgive

I do not tread lightly

And I’ll make you rightly

Suffer if you call me ‘peasant’ again!