She comes and goes like the wind through the valley of deciet, ever-longing betrayal.
She leaves her "work family," her league, if you will, with the ease of a small babe.Why
She chooses to leave us, we'll never know.
Her memory stains the occipital part of our minds like blood stains sheets of Egyptian Cotton.
She is nothing but a memory now, a mere remnant or recollection of what once was.
She comes and goes as she wishes, and looks upon whate'er she favors.
She is the lord of the manor, she can easily cast us aside if she so wishes, like peasants/plebians and
Her wish is our bidding.
-Poetry comes strong to the broken-hearted.
Where are you Mc-Lil' Kim?
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