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Pretty Monster

"It's like a game," she says in a sing-song voice. "A cruel
Sort of game," she admits with a malicious smile and
Low gurgling laugh.
The pretty monster spins as she invites
Herself to picnic in my favorite garden
Where she can lie in the warm sunny day and eat.
She finishes her lunch, stolen from my fridge, and soon
Begins her exploration of the labyrinth of my thoughts.
Her footsteps move too quickly to follow, though I try,
As she ravages and searches me looking for something
She cannot find.
Lost and wandering to the garden I left,
I discover,
The once beautiful begonias
Have withered in the hard, dry soil, rotted flowers of
The regal roses now drop unnoticed to the ground,
And too late I realize that she has locked every door
To the mind of my imagination.




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falling-rain said...
Jan. 24, 2012 at 10:12 am:
hey this is really good... i enjoyed it and am looking forward to more like this,keep writing:)
 
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BoosflashThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jul. 26, 2011 at 8:43 pm:
tres bon captain! i do love the last line, 4+5,8,10+11, and so on. very nice. it would be conducive for you to do your dance at the time which is now.
 
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