Why they don’t do it
my way I can’t understand
’cause I’m always right.
Impatience
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Why they don’t do it
my way I can’t understand
’cause I’m always right.
Why they don’t do it
my way I can’t understand
’cause I’m always right.
When she’s not funny
her raw candor grips readers
probing her deep wounds.
Either it’s a loud
HVAC system or
white noise to mask fear.
Invested with deep
meaning, treasures buried by
trash. Dust, dirt their shroud.
When Robert Frost wrote
“Nothing gold can stay,” he could
have described child stars.
Like laser pointers
they blind in red green blue as
they save the planet
My door open, but
the rooms are empty, thoughts like
forgotten relics.
She keeps it displayed
to remind herself that once
she didn’t know it
He doesn’t have to
do anything but show up.
Fame does that for you.