she sits on the edge,
comfortably away from the fire,
out of the battle zone,
throwing round house punches
and cheap shots,
hitting below the belt
whenever possible,
protecting her cynicism
at all cost;
resting secure in cloaks of MFAs
and sheets of academic nonsense,
staring down her preconceived nose,
at anything outside her ‘reformed’ mind,
jaded by the master,
poisoned at a very early age;
she lost more than just
a childhood.
.
.
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