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How Does My Poem Smell?

My poem reeks of

Pretty flowers and

Happy smiles,

Even though my face

Keeps the mask on

To stop others from

Stealing the smile,

The very rare smile;

My poem reeks of

Melancholy and melodrama

And bouts of anxiety

That I keep hidden

Under a heavy shroud of

Faux excitement

And childish giggles;

My poem reeks of

Memories long forgotten

And tucked away in

A dark corner of my mind,

Ready to be pushed

Further into oblivion,

While trying hard not to

Go down the slimy spiral

That brings me face-to-face

With the people who

Left me with those memories;

My poem reeks of you.

My poem reeks of me.

// NaPoWriMo, Day 5

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