Poems Phloems
- Reads 104
- Votes 4
- Parts 5
At first I act as if I care
And say that I hope they fare
And then I start to tear
Away my facàde, no longer I wear
And with a cackle, I glare
I brace them with my blinding smile
And ask them "Why? Haven't had a joke in a while?"
No rage left in them to rile
So they wither away and die
An excerpt from my collection.
All Rights Reserved
#9
arsenic
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