Through a missive you came,
Because a rough time hits me lame
I reckon this isn’t for you to tame
But for the easing poem, you’re dame.

You put positivity in my ugliest morpheme
And to my bitterness, a crème
Even my sickness is extreme
You’re a blessing dressed feme

And even though I act so slime,
You went to a fast food and spent a dime
Created a poem from a scant time
Even though I’m not, I feel like a prime.

Our stories may not become a tome
But those meager words made me home.
In my rusts, you became my chrome.
Once again, thanks for the poem.

Credits: to the author who made this poem for me. Hand salute!


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