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Mrs Timetable May 2020
Your brows
If you over preen
Will have to lean
On the likings of
A sharpie pen
In the color coffee bean
Then you will be
A vampire queen
Looking ever so mean
Don’t over-pluck! BLT word of the day preen.
stopdoopy Nov 2020
You think
I am a hen
In god's house

There for the plucking

Oh honey
How foolish you are

To think it'd be so easy
To get close to me

My feathers are gold and ivory
And my beak deadly

Moving with pigeon toes
You stumble and trip

You thought this dance
Would be swift

But this is ballet
And you are not my Siegfried
Ballet is wild y'all, mad respect to anyone who does it
Elizabeth Zenk Dec 2018
plucking petals from the center of a daisy.
the satiny texture of life.
breathing in flowery delight.
twisting the pure ivory teardrops between my fingers.

crushing, grinding and squishing it into a paste.
the stunning flicks of winsome memories,
turned to shredded affection
and self-loathing.

the bitter toxins
still, sting wounds of battle,
however, the knowledge of that daisy's deadly sickness
will continue this painful war.

it hurts so bad,
plucking out the petals that lay around my heart,
to remove my feelings for you.

emmie cosgrove Aug 2017
You’re still sitting there

In the middle of my heart

Plucking at its strings

With your fingers made of razors
Josue cruz Jun 2015
I'm a man that has little respect twoard others land and property
But when I saw that rose it was something rare that couldn't be replaced our bought
I climbed the fence and plucked it from the owners garden
Ran with it through many adventures
I saw the beauty in the rose
It was not like the others
But due too the fact I plucked it
Just like I stole it they stole it from me
For having been the one to pluck the rose I had to face the consequences
Oh what better consequence than to have what was stolen from me stolen
I can see know what others had to go through
But this pain and suffering is to great
How can I live without my beautiful rose
Now I'm crying feeling like the original owner
Just waiting for it to return
Right beside the fence
Without the my roses warmth

— The End —