I dont know what devil gets in you
to make you do the things you do
but I have seen you too often
not to recognize the type
envious of the things of light, expecting squalor.
and if you could on beautiful teacup mornings
you would smash them to smithereens
all the things that gleam for you
out of reach
on someone else's beach you deem
beneath you.
starfish, anemone
sea glass what have you
the fragile human hearts
in love with all the arts yet obdurate.
and indigent, at your mercy.
rumplestiltskins.
mary angela douglas 7 january 2023
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