The Headband

	Politically I am Mr. Correctness,
	converse politely without edges,
	carry my muzzle on a straight nose
	as decent men from head to toes.

	The headband around my mane
	guards successfully my brain,
	that my language will not fail
	and woun't tip up a rusty nail.

	When from a children's book
	I read some story of old stock,
	at a few places I gently cough
	for a word to be skimmed off.

	I woun't tear iron bars in halves,
	don't wish censors to their graves,
	probe all to be safe and sound,
	else I'm stamped into the ground.

	Preferably I just shut up,
	that lets me stand up top:
	I elude the shit storm blowing
	and pangs to my worn feelings.

		Ilka-Maria 2015