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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #2023845
A poem I had to write for my poetry workshop class that was my attempt at a pantoum poem.
The ink that stains her skin
trickles down cobalt canals
and sinks below layers of whim.
Etchings of savory guilt

trickle down cobalt canals.
She hopes to cleanse away disgust of
etchings of savory guilt,
but it is branded too deep to leave.

She hopes to cleanse away disgust of
what mother said she would regret,
but it is branded too deep to leave.
Though blemished, she’s more than

what mother said she would regret.
It was not remorse.
Though blemished, she’s more than
the ink that stains her skin.
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