poetry critical

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My Guardian

I told him about this dream I had
where a strong, young man
trapped me in a trap
with some hot knot of lies
and choked me choked me until I died.
"I've had the same dream,"
he said in sad words.
Well no, not exactly.
He almost said that
but instead he frowned
and put his hands around my neck.
My soft lips pouted open,
but all I could do was blink, shiver,
watch the answer get hard,
and it didn't hurt at all.

20 Jan 07

(define the words in this poem)

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