Sorry, I'm Sore

I was prperly answering

your questions

It's not even twenty

to eat in portions

The answers bloomed

not for what flower I pick

Life is just a comment

but taken like a picnic

If fancied lightly, piecemeal

Jolted freely as my will

When jarred, olden sill

To find but very real

Then demons as we all

angels are good

But they both agree

In some thought would


we hide and show

Turning entities

outside time's window

The grainy study

Of mankind

Assertive because

'Tis not refined

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