A musical prodigy in a paperweight shape,
With every day, she grows more outspoken.
The days when her mouth was covered with tape,
They've become better days' rude token.
And while her voice sounds like pure affection,
No tune can conquer the hidden hate
Towards her, hidden in my id's deepest section,
Grieving for the old days, which were great.
YOU ARE READING
A phone book
PoetryA loose continuation of A Few Hysterical Words, this time focused on character descriptions.
