Your voices are sweet syrup, but you cut with razor blade tongues. I hear your slimy snickers and see your wicked eyes. I watch my back for stones and sticks hidden in your Prada bags.
You don’t have to pretend. I don’t like you either.
Photo courtesy of Pexels
Great imagery!
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Thanks, Margaret 🙂
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Love this, thanks for making it so relatable
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