“A Sad Feeling”
This poem just stinks.
Your book smells like red onions,
Each page turns yellow.
How long does this odor last?
When is my box closing tight?
Vultures still creep in.
Songs are written in disguise,
Like our baby talk.
Glitter fits over a mess,
All remains saying these lines.
My small lunch is trash.
I’ve been reading for hours,
Done with little heart.
Can mind be a draining wave,
As views find one’s given free?
https://www.deviantart.com/gameuniverso/art/A-Sad-Feeling-849400917?ga_submit_new=10%3A1595300832
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