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Monday, August 13, 2007

Mary Mary Miss Contrary

Every word I choose
is the
wrong one.

I cannot speak
except to
deceive
argue
dispute.

Am I nothing but
a cliché?
An adversary?

Is my very soul
distilled
down to a single
abhorred
memory?

My words are left behind
meaningless
dismissed
reduced

like a forgotten sauce
left in the pot
too long, crisp
and unwanted.

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