Okay. This is my first time updating after the "reply not in the story" thing started. So excuse the awkwardness.
I feel that you, my dear dear dear readers, should know that I have written 23 of these poems and have found myself quite stuck. The problem is that I wrote the 24th but lost it, and am having an impossible time recreating it. You need not be frightened, since this is 13 poems from now, but I thought you should know, because you are the only people besides me who jave read it.
Claimer: All ideas for this poem are MINE! (cue maniacal laughter)
So-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o, author note all finished. Onto what you actually care about.
Tousle: Only Children at Play
around here, she wasn't treated well
some children use to call her names
and laugh and say the most awful things
(milord, I do assure you, never mine)
when she ignored as she oft did
they pronounced her on par with the kings
they would laugh and tease her
until she started to cry
their parents never set them straight
and though, at the start
she was a lovable little kid
she began to know how to hate
and then one day
she up and left
(but not to my surprise
milord, I always knew
she needed love
there was something in her eyes)
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