my poetry

The Cake Is A Gift

Cake on the table. A gift. Delicious.
But not for me.
A tiny box. Perhaps jewelry.
Pretty.

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Gifts are a great thing but never when the gift is not yours.

A set of jackpot lottery numbers when you didn’t even play. So that means you’re losing even before you realize that you’ve won.

My friend got a blue ribbon and it was pretty. She didn’t like it so she gave it to me.
I’m always the fourth kid in the family and all my clothes are hand-me-down and outdated. Thread worn but “fits you perfectly”, they say so you smile, however jaded.

Cake on the table. A gift. Delicious.
A lost soul is given a crown because of a gift so marvelous.
Your counterfeit merchandise is green and gold. Your favorite color.
Cake on the the table. A gift. Not yours.

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