The Duke Of Minor Discomfort

The Duke of Minor Discomfort
Sat on his tin-plated, wobbly throne
Contemplating the state of his domain

He shook his head and tried to focus his thoughts
On everything that needed to be done
But despite his efforts his thoughts either remained in knots
Or unraveled like a hangman's noose coming undone

The Duke of Minor Discomfort
Tapped his fingers on the broken screen of a cellphone
While staring at a painting in a crooked picture frame

He pondered his situation and asked no one in particular
How did the world around him become so very, very uncomfortable
And no one in particular answered in the vernacular
That it was better to be uncomfortable than to be insufferable