By James Felix III Word Count: 113
Often writing poems about she
As if she exists
She is tired of being brought up
Caught in an abysmal abyss
Of run on sentences and scripts
As if she exists.
She’s Donne’s pen’s addiction
She’s Donne’s muse
She’s done being a victim
The one you cater to.
She is not looking for love
She is not looking for life.
She is distasteful putrid word of mouth
She is solemn serene
At least that’s what you thought
When you first saw she walking out.
She is forever as ink on the canvas
She is the dot you use to dot your eye
She is the dash that separates time.
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