The Green Monster

The green monster rears its giant head,

Emerging from the depths for bloodshed,

Consuming every obstacle in its path,

Until all that is left is sheer wrath.

Why is everything so easy for others?

All I can do is hide under the covers,

Why am I constantly being disregarded?

Stuck with a mind that’s being bombarded.

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The Autumn Trees.

As she sits on her chair watching the leaves change,

The feeling of joy seems somewhat strange,

People below are always to busy to notice,

Its beauty is being appreciated by the poetess.

All she can see is the magnificent autumn trees,

How they dance in the slightest hint of a breeze,

The road below her is busy and congested,

But when she stares out she always feels rested.

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