A Polarity of Politeness

He greeted with a politeness -
But never with himself;
His pleasantries were delightness
But had he secret's hell?

He never raised a word
That threatened or cajoled;
His speaking tone was heard:
"If I may, to be so bold."

In a world of fiery lip aiming
And with bony finger pointing;
He forsook angry blaming
Finding no soul disappointing.

Flocking femme fancied his demeanor,
"Oh, he's as polite as could be!"
Burning hearts wished he was meaner,
"Oh...he was as polite as he could be..."


Hidden was a Keyless Door,
"This room where none can endure me."
Politeness forbade us asking more -
Such a lovely currency!

But plain the quiz upon our faces:
Was he a pretender to his joy?
"Please, rest assured my life is aces!
"Forever I the happy toy!"

Well-honed instincts trained to please
Knew the gifts sold to be lauded;
Receiving our soothing appease
We then dutifully applauded.

Yet of his Room I wondered,
Did it hold a raging sin?
Fretting I had blundered
Never asking to be let in.

In proper politic, he said he had it made
Charming us with irresisting kindness;
We kept sunny his pop parade
With a keen obliging blindness.

Dancing to his silent dreams
We mistook his shuffles for a voice;
But life is never as it seems
When felt lived without a choice.

So till the time of no more breath
He claimed impossibility of strife;
Polite he made his tear-stained death:
"Fear not what's lost in life!"

But in hasty post he'd sent a letter
Telling of the Room with Keyless Door;
Hope's confession to sway death better,
"T'was in that room I pled for more."

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