A Stolen Poem

no matter
how many times,
you place
your name on it:
it’ll always be mine.

no matter
how many times,
you attempt to change
its scent,
my scent,
its inspirational recital,
it will always smile
my smile inside;
or hold my laughter
if i want it to.

when my poem speaks:
people will know
it belongs to me,
every time the words,
dribble stolen ink from your mouth
from this poem… i wrote,
that so many know;
and i know,
i own.

by ronald stroman

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