July 8, 2011
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Drip. Drip. Drip.
To the world,
Her face is covered
In blood diamonds.
I am the mine,
Or so she claims.

The blood, is the
Remnant of her dessert.
I am falling from her
Cold, reptilian eyes.
And you are fooled,
By her crocodile tears.

Each scale on her back,
A proud achievement.
One for every time she
Consumes. And tricks you.
Her body, sewn together,
With the thread of lives.

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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

BrightBurningCampeador This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jul. 12, 2011 at 2:30 pm

I absolutely love this poem, but I again noticed some things that might be changed to make it even better. And again my main advice is to rearrange some of the lines. Like the first two lines of the second verse. And the third and fourth in the last verse.

But, these changes aren't really necesary. This poem is practicaly perfect already, and the changes I suggest won't make it completely perfect.

Neera replied...
Jul. 12, 2011 at 3:21 pm
Thank-you :)  Yes, I didn't really spend much time editing this, just a kind of rough version, but I'll certainly look into making those changes.
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