Scrap (an acrostic poem)

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So many pieces of his soul littered the landscape of his life

Cluttering memories with strong emotions

Reaching down he picked up a shard, careful not to crush it

A bit of a smile flashed across his face

Perhaps it was just the cocoon that he needed to emerge beautiful and ready to fly

Angle (an acrostic conversation)

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And that’s when I asked about his heavy drinking past”

Now that’s a new one.  I never knew he did that.”

Gonna confess, he doesn’t have one”

Let me get this right, you asked someone about a past you know they didn’t have?”

Everyone has a ghost, I just picked the wrong haunted house.”