Wild Child
I wrote a poem about a picture of you and I.
That Burgundy blind smile.
That picture so bright full of teeth I go weak
Lack in speech and bewilder the wild child
The tamed your spirit liquid gone mild find.
Crimson still dotted with transparent hue
They always worry about me as I worry for you
But I tell them, she is her own celestial moon
Her own brave mind and her own song in tunes
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