It forces my hand
And causes acts of anxiety
Traffic accidents no doubt too
When you cross the streets
Your beauty it lingers and
Conspires against me
It stings my mind and encompasses
Far too much attention
Your scorn is freely offered
A side dish
Your scorn is available
At a bulk discount
Kindness in its stead
For those others teeming
And becking your call
Your beauty is a knife blade
Double edged and platinum
Effecting and infecting
A disheveled wound my mind
And very slow to heal
By: Daniel Smallegange
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