Bitten Poem by James McLain

James McLain

James McLain

From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By

Bitten

Rating: 3.5


Bitten,
so you want to be bitten.
In the corner you sit in a chair.
Watching I wait, waiting I watch.
Seeing the look on your face I prepare.
Meant to be seen most are not.

To what end does a bush hide a tree?
At the base are what color the leaves.
Thick are the vines that move wrapped around
a silent trapped voice deep inside.

Saturday, April 18, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: green
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James McLain

James McLain

From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By
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