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This ones for you.
You, sir, are an ass. I look at myself with disdain when I think of you at all. So stop, You'd say. Well, that's it. I can't. I can't NOT think. It just wont happen. I curse the fact that I am a woman, with these weak tendencies, and flighty fancies. I'll tell myself "I'm done! I'm done!" And I know that I lie. Because while I KNOW, for me, you're bittersweet news, I just can't Not. Double negatives. Are they annoying you yet? Ha. I hope so. (Actually, honestly, I hope not.) See? I want to be an ass to you, too. But, alas, I cannot seem to find the heartlessness in me when it comes to you. Where is my coldblooded nonchalant indifference when it is that you're around? Not here. No where. I hate it. What power is this? I loathe it. I love it. You ass. |
I'm not sure what this is but it doesn't belong here. This forum is to discuss books not to post your own poetry.
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There's a Poetry section in the Lit Forum, so I suppose this will be moved there? Or closed and you can repost there. idk. XD
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I recognise this? It reminds me of beatrice, from much ado about nothing.
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