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I am a spicy fabric! I do not stick to the skin I do not sweat And who are you to say I am a ditz to be amazed at life’s simple pleasures? You always like to rain on my parade
The poisonous betrayal of a scorned heart Or a fictitious ideal Maybe the idea of loyal intervenes But the rivalry is apparent With the thickness as a thunder cloud Relationships built on contempt
(poems go here) A beginful past to a new way
November 26, 1997 A daughter is born To a family of four Immediately thrust into a competition with the first born Who she soon learned to abhor.