poetry critical

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for a. nelson, okay?

Was the poison taste
In his red wine,
A fleeting scent
Of honeysuckle
A moment of false happiness,
I rushed the note, boy, man, lion
I am lynx
Skipping moments of time
Salavating for the taste
Of Doritos instead of blood,
Leaving you hanging
Pretending instead. But I'll come
Home in a whisper
This time, once, dead.
Poetry is better left for things
     that are too sad.
     And today boy is your birthday
          So rejoice and be glad.
Take the notes I make and stick ten
To your head, 'cause boy,
Man and lion,
No longer am I dead
But waiting, on haunches, to pounce once again.

17 May 17

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classy stuff,

not sure of honeysuckle  but am so sure of Doritos- they are my spirit animal.

i looked at the one i did for you- it was pretty nuts, and the comments are funny
 — DeformedLion

I could never match that one. <3
 — sylvia

damn good.
 — JKWeb