The Devil's Three Hands

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I was framed for being who I am not.
A trickster, with deceptions rolling
off my sleeves while slithering all across
the floor, creating illusions of where I am.
And with a final silent bow,
I left before I was gone.





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yvonne104 said...
Oct. 27, 2009 at 11:18 pm
I love your poem!!! For some reason i cant think of the words to describe what i imagine when i read it.
 
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