I will not poem defeat,
for only in poetry am I undefeated.
The heartaches I occasionally suffer,
I fake for the sake of masochistic pleasure.
Tickle me pretty, my sweet.
I'm the bravest damsel
you'll ever meet.
I'll weird you wicked,
I who wobble tigers into Sunday pudding,
I who torch bushes into new commandments,
I who offer no excuse for always winning.
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