On a Christmas Day, II

thewrathofsponge
Aug 25, 2017 · 1 min read
Photo by Andrew Gook on Unsplash

He loved, then he fled

He heard on his travels that she bled

she painted the town red

She sullied the image that all her life she had made

He was sad, couldn’t she see?

He was building an empire for only she

On the day of Christmas he called and called

She never replied.

Poets Unlimited

Six Years of poetry-only publishing, PoetsUnlimited was a diverse, engaging and authentic poetry magazine. For most of that time a daily publication, it was always diverse and original, and free-to-read by all.

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thewrathofsponge

Written by

A sponge's final form. https://about.me/thewrathofsponge

Poets Unlimited

Six Years of poetry-only publishing, PoetsUnlimited was a diverse, engaging and authentic poetry magazine. For most of that time a daily publication, it was always diverse and original, and free-to-read by all.

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