I was Frankenstein's little monster
crafted by your water torture,
each drop dripping another scar
your scapegoat,
a sanctified vessel for their pain,
the necessary villain for your version,
I was the beast lying under their bed
and in the folklore of this land
that lies over the line in the sand
they paint me blood red
and set a crown of devil horns
above my
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Comments 5
Good luck with the poetry
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Wow. Haven't heard from you in years. Thank you so much!
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It has been a long while. I've been seeing some of your posts but haven't been reading much from anyone as I'm in a crunch time right now.
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I get it.... life gets crazy busy after a while. I remember having so much free time back in my 20s. I don't know where it all went.
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