poetry and me
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Dear poetry,
Im back again
Pen in hand
Afraid to stand
How are you this week?
Treat me with your fascinations
Distract me from there laughs
Listen as i tell you all the secrets from my past
I am a object.
But you knew that I was one,
That's why you treated me as such.
I was moldable, but yet fragile
You could sway me back and forth,
I don't know whose fault it was
