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This poem was inspired by my stepmother. The words are intended to provide a picture within the imagination of the reader in a way that might seem intrusive and perhaps a little intimidating.


Submitted:Nov 16, 2013    Reads: 1    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


Her face was an ancient glacier

Lined with deep crevasses

Framed with straw colored hair

Dusted with brown freckles

Her stone cold eyes were pale blue

Her mouth was a jagged thin line

She stood like a general

Or perhaps a scarecrow

"Get off my farm!" she hollered

The sharp pain struck his chest

It was only just now that he saw

The pistol she had drawn

Warm blood flowed freely

It felt cold as it reached his leg

He tried to turn his head

But her rugged mount rushmore face

Was the last image to fill his eyes

As everything faded to black





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