She has the apparel of many but the intellect of some
She has an abundance of glee and doesn’t mind that I’m dumb
Her joyous laughter brings exuberance as it spreads
She’s just as addictive as the song in my head
When sorrowed by ignorance and disputes fought
Through music she expresses her troubles and thoughts
As life’s tribulations at times leave me bare
Regardless of what state I’m in, I know that she cares
She showers with a bevy of opinions and questions
As she satires me by her mischief and her actions
A grateful person, contented with what’s given.
Yet I still feel hollow as this verse is written
Puzzled, I ask. Just what part did I miss?
That’s when I realized she doesn’t exist.
Good one God,
FUZZ
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