She sat uncertain in front
of the house she owns
Undeserving of the class,
inherent heritage
A monstrosity of brick-by-brick
finesse
Whipped cream carefully
sandwiched
Tastefully assembled and
stacked
A toothsome gluing of generations’
legacy
She sat undeserving of
forced ascension
Cheap, loud, and banged
She sat uncertain
Diminutive, low quality’s
showpiece
Metallic scrap though
fairly new
She sat undeserving in
front of the house she owns
I guess she was an
afterthought
Don’t you hate when that
happens?
--My dream has loved paper so much for so long because it gave influence to the parched voice of a fashionista poet. Finding this outlet, that voice is now replete with expressive sound.
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