Avenge
Cars drive by And spit on my face. I don’t know why Maybe because Shakespeare Told them to. Sizzling feet beneath the bed Comfort the Devil’s lair. It has no tone, But it has a message And message gives it tone. So jump in front Of a moving train And save the baby hares. No matter what, it is I Who knows best For I now own the sport.
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I want to hear everyone's comments, good and bad (but always constructive), on my poetry. Any and all advice is greatly appreciated! No need to sugar coat it.
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Synopsis
This is another PORT (poem of random thought).
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