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sandra wyllie
Poems
Oct 2022
Head Games
pull her in
with painted lies,
dandelions hypnotize.
She's a wilting flower
within the frame
of the fifty-minute hour.
The ground is fertile
to grow. But he breaks her up
and turns her over like a ***.
Pulls her roots
that she clings/snips the feathers
off her wings.
Paid a kingβs ransom
to sit all-day
looking handsome.
Written by
sandra wyllie
56/F
(56/F)
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