Extracting the Thorn
Extracting the Thorn
Oh my wicked queen
Up in your tower
Counting hours like so many flower petals
Hating me quiet
Like the black tornado sneaking up on the barn
You never saw me as me
But rather
A picketer on the front of fair and honesty
(Which you couldn’t stand)
You dressed yourself in maroon colored scarves
And New York City ambitions, auditioning ( Read more... )
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