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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