Five-eight
But he slumps and she knows
Dead weight
His intentions and prose
She will not turn 'round
To hear the sound
Of a speech through his nose
O, she knows
Pours sand
Through a sieve and he frets
Somehow
Still quite
Angered he's castle-less
She is way too proud
To watch him drown
In his need to impress
Who's to blame?
She knows damn well won't change