Rice (an acrostic poem)

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Reaching for the fork, she gently fluffed the grains

It helped release some of the steam trapped within, perfuming her face

Cooking might not be her jam, but this simple act made her so happy

Even if the rest of the meal was now charcoal

Punish (an acrostic poem)

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Pushing her body to breaking never helped anyone

Unless you were talking about her guilt

Now she was here and wondered if this time she had gone too far

It seemed to make sense in the heat of the moment

So now hanging on this rockface fifty feet up and her strength giving out, she wondered

How did eating a single extra Oreo do this to her?