by Linda M. Crate
all of my scars are torn open and you threw leeches
into your salted words and they nearly sucked all the
life from my body, but somehow I found the strength
to rip out all the blood sucking monsters you thrust
at me they didn't finish me as you proposed them to
for I have a stronger will than that of any you'd
ever known or will know again; I will not fall at your
feet a wilted flower but as a phoenix burning and I
will rise from my ashes without you and scorch you in the
flames of my success because nothing can keep me from shining
like a star especially not the likes of you, a brackish barnacle.
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...a fine piece...reminded me of the old irish poets (in story alone, perhaps) who, when abused by the powerful (and fool-ish) proved that the word is, truly, more powerful than the sword - a brackish barnacle! May you shine, Poet...
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