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Oct 22
pity drips like warm syrup
reluctant— almost,
sweet to sender,
onto unwelcoming pancakes
flat, absorbing all they can
always leaving extra around
(they can’t possibly hold all there is to offer.)
An unsettling ending. At least to me. But I think I like it that way. There’s nothing else to say. And pity is unsettling in the same way.
Penguin Poems
Written by
Penguin Poems  17/F/United States
(17/F/United States)   
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