The Bait
Location
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Valencia, slumber, and inkwell
Shades and tainted images hide well
The blemishes and marks that always dwell
Lest depicting realness, an uncensored weakness
A witty skill, unknown to those seeking just a thrill
The humor of one, not funny to many
Yet my image is
Splintered, split
Crumbled, clipped
Fractured, fixed
Erased, effaced
For the preference of one
For an alluring taste to the tip of the tongue
For the perfect bits of media chum
For an audience of many parts, yet fixed to single fishing braid
Yet I am not a piece of bait.
This poem is about:
Me
My community
My country
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: