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Illusion of Weakness


Solomon Machardson

Though she has an iron will
Yet she wears the disguise of weakness
As her tool to rule over me
In the way a baby rules over all.

The twinkle that flickers in her eyes;
The freshness that blooms in her body;
The vanity that charms her face
Are camouflage that conceal her strength.

Rich is the treasure
Of her devilish pleasure
For hurling innuendoes
Which have wrecked my life.

Her conduct is ever eloquent;
Her words are ever obscure.
"Is Dorothy looking well my dear?"
She would ask sweetly
I answer within myself.
"Am I Dorothy's keeper"

The wrinkles you see in my face
Are the offspring of worries
That her words have burnt in me.
It is nor for nothing
That I'm still on earth.
If I had wings like angels
I would have flown to Heaven.

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