I love voile more
than I love olive.
But violet, I love it
more than I love
voile.
O evil! O
vile! Violence
springs from love ‘n’ ice,
from nice love,
a lone vice.
But how does complaint
become compliant?
Precious beget
precarious?
Oh my — such
limitation in-
imitably ends in
imitation.
Eternity’s an entirety.
A word’s a sword.
And I’ve forgot
is
to forgive.
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4 comments:
O, evil 'tis -- I loves it!
Wow your poem really reflects your creativity. I like it.
gorgeous gorgeous
GINZA!
*snork*
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