The Epitomy of High School Dating

November 18, 2008
You molded me to clay perfection
Then left me all alone to dry
I sat on a shelf
Hardened, yet fragile
Until your next masterpiece pushed me off

As I lay shattered on the floor
All you did was sweep me up
And throw me away

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shin'sswingingirl said...
Nov. 25, 2008 at 4:21 pm
You misspelled epitome! couldnt you have tried a little bit harder before you submitted this poem? it needs work.
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