by B. E. Cotton

She was the consummate liar
She ignited my being
With her euphony
She decocted me
A capricious master
At the go away come here game
My self esteem an appurtenance
To her hubris
She sculpted me
She shattered me
I  gave credence 
To her words
So fertile with BS
                              I have bloomed
                              From the compost heap


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