Poem Whores
Love me,
want me,
read my songs.
If not for words,
I don't belong.
Ive opened up,
stretched my soul flat,
poem whores are sure of that.
Give me,
need me,
wanting more,
searching out for whats in store.
Innocent with guilt,
for lore,
judgment on the poem whores...
saint cynosure ( Ken Bennight )
Copyright © Ken Bennight | Year Posted 2012
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