Elizabeth Dawn Crose


Don't inaid my world,
not yet.
The structure unsecure.
The fret,
could cause a blur.
I bet,
you wouldn't have a cure.
The sky is beautiful,
the ground is still,
how uncomparable
for you to kill.
But dreams not well,
and this is real.
The shock, the heartbrake,
this hate, surreal.
Damaging massive amounts
of working emotions.
Challenging to stress what counts,
preparing our devotions
starring at commotions.
Scrambling what was decently controlled.
Damning what strength patrolled.
Don't invaid my world,
not yet.
Who said you could bother me here?
Who advised your fanatic fret?
Gave permission to father fear?
Lady Liberty stand your glare,
to get you out of here.

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