A poet is a mother
A poem kicks and screams like a baby
and a poet would pull her claws out growling softly to defend it
A poet is a slut
A poem gives her passion to anyone who desires it
and is willing to pay the price for her beauty
A poet is a murderer
A poem can grab a wrist and pour cyanide down your throat
just because anger is only one letter away from danger
And like vultures
our words wait for the flesh to be eaten up
so we can gnaw the leftovers from the bone
and gloss our car crash lives
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