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Rebecca Oct 2020
Her blanket is insecurity,
her pillow is commotion.
She gladly bites the hand that feeds
her curiosity of emotion.

Colors are what she feels,
this she finds true.
When sadness does appear
she sees a cliched blue.

But when happiness is present
pink and purple will adhere.
Blossoms of pastels
throughout her atmosphere.

Antihistamines are used
to shut her weary eyes.
Insomnia will go away
until tomorrow night.
“There are some nights when sleep plays coy,
aloof and disdainful.
And all the wiles
that I employ to win
its service to my side
are useless as wounded pride, and much more painful.”
― Maya Angelou

— The End —