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Jul 9
You shred my words
Thin colors from my brush
You still the flight of soaring birds
While grinding my ego in a crush

What music can I sing
What melodies compose
After your scorpion sting
And heartless blows

If I ignore your sneer
And refuse to listen
Will I lose my fear
And start to glisten

Probably not
I’m so weak
My art is fragile
Not magnifique

I’ll silence my pen
And dry my easel
You win again
My inner weasel
Written by
allanbrunmier  82/M/California
     Darrell Landstrom, Santita and Fawn
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