Tell The Tales of The Black Sheep

I’ll tell you a tale, but do not be appalled; it is not a mystery, so there is nothing to solve.

I do not strive to adorn my finger with a glittering rock, nor do I wish to waltz down the aisle to curtsy for my betrothed; therefore, I disappoint my birthgivers.

My mind stubbornly ignores information from sources I deem useless to aid in human survival; consequently, I leave a ghastly taste in the mouth of my professor.

I am a very skilled bartender, but brutal honesty, harsh responses, and a personality made for a brute man was a tonic too strong for my mates to drink, and thus some left the party before the second round of shots.

Like a lion, I devour, whether sweet or sour, I am greedy with flesh as I leave no crumbs for my kin to scrabble for, this has my lovers questioning my sense of nurture.

A tango with a priest meant I would be less of a black sheep than the urchins in the streets, but what kind of sheep betrays the herd when the shepherd turns his back?

THE BITTER POET