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Poetry 101

This is my heart, it's just sweet tart, perfect like sweet and sour.
I fell inlove, though she has never said the same, my feelings never fleeting.
It's like a bird in a gilded cage, they constantly search for the next stage.
I write to her without a thought, she got me in this box, she calls me puppet.
I am her instrument, the trumpet of many sounds, with only one note.
I send it daily, like my love, and if it should ever return.
I know not how to move on, but I'll retreat with wounds upon my heart.
I've loved her for so long, she's my biggest factor, she can be the benefactor.
So when I'm gone I hope you know, know where to turn when this poem has come to end at last.
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Philip Plamo More than 1 year ago
This is the meaning of this art to me, and I think many would agree...
Poetry.com 4 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 6 reviews.
Shakil Ahmed Baliyavi More than 1 year ago
well thought poem.
Ginny Hendley More than 1 year ago
I like she can be the benefactor
Donald Loudon More than 1 year ago
Well done - Poetry 101!
Ging Alburo More than 1 year ago
Good job Keep it up
Anna Laurencio More than 1 year ago
sera fait, merci pour le partag will done, thanks for sharing"
Vernon Johnson More than 1 year ago
You are better than a dieing woman
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