A scrambled piece of jealous rage,
that is flowing through me like blood that
is stuck, trapped in my
veins and never
letting up.
Anything can be said or expressed and
you're doing it so well, enticing with your
silly, pretty words and
like everyone else,
it'll get you nowhere.
Just stop and compare me to her for a second and
the flaws you cannot (will not)
see will, maybe, shine through like a flash light
being pointed into your
eyes.
My hands are cold while yours are warm
against your black ink pen(manship
that is, probably, more
graceful than my ever changing
word wraps.)














Devious Comments
--
Ná glac pioc comhairle gan comhairle ban.
--
"... I am a voice crying in the wilderness; ' Prepare ye the way for The Ford'..."
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