okay, so apparently something is very very wrong with me, because i actually wrote a poem. and apparently something even more wrong is wrong with me because i feel the unmistakable urge to share this little lump of tripe with the rest of you. hope somebody likes this. it almost drove me mad last night
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sorry.
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That is much stronger than the original version you brought to writing group.
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I haven't read either, but my mother is trying to impress both upon me as we speak. I've got a lot of reading to do before it, but some day i'll catch up and test out both. thanks for the suggestions, darlin
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Connie's boy
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And I'm never coming back.
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That has no place in this journal. If you're going to say something about the poem or its subject or anything relating thereto, just come out and say it. Hike up those cargo pants, steel your resolve, set your jaw, thumb the vast expanse of your nose at what other people think and just come out and say it.
p.s. Like the title?
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your call, sugar
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