How very cutting is a writer’s words
Which sword do they wield?
A tough muscle of a tongue
Where many a heart has been killed
The writer shies not from truth
Their words bite like a determined croc
Each has a loyal following; each has their own dear flock
What next shall a writer say?
One can never tell
But dear hearts sit in hope or wonder
Will they be bought to Hell?
Filed under poetry
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Ellen Grace Olinger
Passion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
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