Ms. Misery

misery finds me buried beneath paper
where I've made myself another small scrap
not unlike the others

she lifts corners with fingers like thin-bladed
swiss army knives, she's pretty on the outside
wicked sharp on the inside

her indiscriminate slices do random damage
like paper cuts I don't detect until later
I am learning to use invisible ink

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Lover - a found poem

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Allium