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Opera Ain't Over 'til the Fat Lady Sings

Nowhere to run, There’s nowhere to hide. I’m feeling like a coward. Homeless, a child, defied. Hope? What is that? Where do I find this? I’m completely lost, No feeling to dismiss. A tiny, porcelain doll, Glass-like soul, Nothing in the distance, Not even a goal. No sight of humanity, Then I ran into You. Not just anyone, A someone, but who? You, I see through, To a bully, a coward. To win every fight, The small are devoured. Beat me, hurt me, Scare me, and…rape? Tear off my clothes, Where is my escape? There was someone, In the distance lurking, Coming to save me. I watch You smirking. She beat down You, And grabbed my clothes, Asked if I was alright, She was one of my heroes. You opened his eyes, She looked at You hissing, “The opera ain’t over, ‘Til the fat lady’s done singing.”

Copyright © | Year Posted 2010




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Date: 6/11/2010 11:33:00 AM
Your poetry was a pleasure to read today Nicole. May your weekend be full of love,good health and loads of inspiration. Love, Carol
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Date: 6/10/2010 11:19:00 PM
Nic. . . out here I'm going to leave my personal number. 780-244-9212. There it is. Call me. . . we shall leap frog you into today. . . no more being caught in what someone else wrote years ago. . . I intend to kick your @ss. All you have to do is call. Google this: Gerry Mattia Poetry
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