The story stopped near its end,
Looked at the milestones it journeyed,
In all glory pulled a handkerchief,
Sobbed for all the lies she told,
And for the lies she hid well in her verses.

Searched for no publishers place or awards,
Instead went straight home,
A haven with chambers,
And painted in red.

– Emily Parker


Posted on

July 12, 2020

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