Poetry Wakes Me
Poetry wakes me from my dead dreams.
I am like a woman who has been entombed.
My eyes pop open in a vampire-ish way.
My arms stretch out of my coffin bed.
What do you want? I ask Poetry.
Irritated, I look around in the dark.
Where is he? Where did he go?
Giving me only the last line again. I hate that!
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