Skin CrawlersA Poem by Kirsty Woodwardyou should smile more, he said in his crisp white shirt buttoned over a vest more money in the bank than hairs on his chest I mock you, my dear everyday in my head don’t talk to me about your car I’m a twenty-three year old poet working behind a bar remember your wife at home I can see her now preparing your throne. middle aged women, may be impressed but I’d rather watch and laugh, here in my head because I know, Sir deep down you’re just another soul that’s dead. © 2017 Kirsty WoodwardFeatured ReviewReviews
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Added on June 16, 2016Last Updated on March 8, 2017 Author
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