From the Diary of a Cynic
(Who Happened to Be in a Good Mood One Day)
A cancerous cell,
That rapidly quells
Any sane person's peace of mind.
A stripper of sense,
That leaves no defense
And simply isn't, really, all that kind.
It rearranges perceptions,
And dismantles intentions
To the point one has nothing at all.
So sweet and so pure,
But there isn't a cure.
My Goodness, Love, Heavens, what gall!
|Copyright © 2004 by Jody Nagel. All rights reserved.||
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