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So I sat there making daisy-chains

while you played with the hand grenade

that detonated in my heart

their yellow-white all innocence

belying your true impotence

and the rage of disappointment

a wildflower in captivity

held in the thinly veiled depravity

of the ancient ruse called love

but this here flow’ring maiden

less lackadais(y)cal than brazen

weathers this next storm

~Marcela: standing ground, because it’s not all sunshine’n daisies in here…