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me-m(i)y-&-my-self

shy timid in a way that makes
the blood warm, beating as it pumps
the words from the finger tips
creating it’s own world - to live in
or dream of, the stars tell the story
of the fish fighting and the destruction
of the wine being poured on the ground
kinda like patchouli with a touch of lavender
splashing in the water, - hate being the lender
always looking for the one to put it all together
interpreted by the environment, without making a sound
the wind blows where it listens to the rose
bleeding in tune, hoping not to find any lumps
pink is the favorite color,  - still hating sin
hoping beautiful words pour from the lips
always trying to lose that extra pound
the outdoors and many lakes
pretty lame and not very gory
can make many cakes
enjoyed playing with the salamander
still hoping to be found
not picking nose

*
Challenge - (Write a poem of any kind describing
yourself without using the words: me, I, or myself.)

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