Scapegoat
A goats gloat made roses what she sought
a cut coat from a fence that opposes and a knot,
she fought,
psychosis like thought,
to escape from the lot
a bulgy throat full of flowers an hour eating pot to pot,
an indulging bloat she got,
adding a waddle to her trot
2 thoughts on "Scapegoat"
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she sways away anyway
The sounds in this poem are just joyful.