Tuesday, 1 April 2025
Penelope
Tell me, tell me why,
they treat me like dirt,
lips dissolve their cries,
who says to run clear,
retrieve a stolen hurt,
throw a veil of tears,
against such hurful slights,
candles scent the air,
bells ring out the night,
my life contains their fear,
in yellow-robed nightshirts,
they beg me stay here,
walk like a woman of insight,
through desolate squares,
they search my eyes,
will they ring my ears,
jeer at my furs,
ask what's beyond the stars,
I'll make them care,
they love orators here,
in dark and green lairs,
I'm ready to reveal.
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