Crosse-out

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This poem is about someone I learn not to trust

Submitted: July 17, 2012

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Submitted: July 17, 2012

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Crosse Out

The last time I looked,

I was standing at your door,

reading a sign

that read, "you're not at home;

 

I'm always  a minute too late,

for that world that you're in,

that runs every hour

on the cold;

 

Must be my weakness,

curiosity  I'd say,

or maybe,

just damn, blind, ambition;

 

Cause my heart flatly

denies you,

any entrance inside to

 a place

where there are

no conditions.


© Copyright 2017 lorna corpening. All rights reserved.

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