A Strained Note Rimas Dissolutas
Freshly brewed fog and a fall rain,
the mist could transform to a beast;
Winds might swirl becoming a frog
pulsing so loud inside your throat;
You’ll second guess and feel insane
when elevated fears are greased;
Hit that plot twist with no prologue
left rolling in those tales remote;
Bring that quill back to analog,
tranquilize this poet’s stained note.
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