CS (March 30-1950 / Magnolia, Arkansas)


The color of green hurts
Your abilities…
You cannot see…
Your heart is spoiled
You are vain….
I think your heart sits
On a vacant lot…
Just beat every now
And than..
The color of green
Slashes your tongue
Rolls up and hide…
Behind the color of
It slither into blackness
Of the faded trees..
It lives in the oasis
Of the waste land of

by Carolyn Sears

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