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“Pick your poison”

You said as you poured the crimson liquor.

Warm breeze,

Grassy knees,

The sun was out that day.

The grass grew long, untamed,

Behind our picture-perfect house.

Our white picket fence,

Was meant to keep the monsters out.

“That lawn needs a good mowing”

You said as your belly swelled with juice.

And I?

Well, I complied.

I comply with all your words,

Yet you still rid my body of its crimson liquor.

The sun broke through the clouds,

Overhead our jungled yard.

It reminded me of the day,

When I picked my poison.


Poem by: Valentina Tsilimidos

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