Donald

I don't look at myself
it's too toward the success and advice I never take
like I used to

I'd been beautiful around Donald
by a brick wall, my eyes sparkled
My hair shined, in the fingers
Constantly helpless despite the company
of Donald

It's just a slip off of jeans that makes me relax
on the carpet with tickling of skin, it makes the
hairs of my thighs grow.

They sting breaking through the pore, focused on a language I can't understand.
What does that mean, Donald?

Sure to blessed and angelic, when I'm staring so hard.
Sure to be voided despite the attentive nature
you can never be sure

Wet grains bury you in the bowl
of Donald.

Reviews

[several thousand]

Lovely write. The imagery was fine. Perhaps change the word "shined" to "shone" ? just a suggestion. Anyhow, it's a great poem. Stay inspired.

[A. Amos]

Such a wonderful writing and with above ending you nailed it brilliantly my friend.