Hateful sounds come at me
like a leaf in a wind storm.
Ice cream dripping to its fate
below a wobbly chair and a
fat woman smiling.
Accomplishment is nothing,
and I have nothing but
a few words that won't come out.
I don't think I'll come here anymore,
or quite as often as I use to.
NMW-copyright1996-
Reason for writing:
Once again this isn't about one specific thing-however I feel when I write determines what the poem is about.
Birth sign: Taurus
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