Miss Mary Maddows

Within the corners there are shadows

And within the shadows there is a woman

Named Miss Mary Maddows

Mary isn’t quite merry

Since she is in the shadows she is always hidden

And from shadow to shadow, she can always very.

 

She talks to her six fingers on her hands

And counts from 1 to 12

Because at the strike of 12

Mary maddows reveals herself from her dwells.

She looks just like me

But wet, and dripping with sweat

Sweat from the anger she holds inside

And tonight, she goes for a ride

 

With her extended legs she dooms over the streets

Knocking down lights

Destroying cars

And crushes the pavement with her feet

 

She eats the birds who try to take flight

And devastates every relationship with her fight

She rips the grass from the ground

And screeches with wrath for wrath is her fuel

 

Critters take refuge

And the city has gone to embers

All hope is lost

From Miss Mary Maddows

Who is a shadow

Of me

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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