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Confessions of a Selfish Poetess
A poem written with rusty words,
Its rhymes like melting rainbows,

A poem that paints a thousand images,
A poem that is hope—

Like the glistening beams of sunlight to me,
A poem that smells of those old golden pages.

A poem that lies
On a page like a dead body on soft brown earth.

Reading a poem that...