Cold

She had no soul,

Cold and pragmatic

Even the house spiders

Remained in the attic

She drew nothing towards her

No grace, no empathy, no interest

In feelings,  or matters of the heart

Just an Icy “Don’t give a shit”

Look upon her face

“Cook your own

You can eat at my table”

She leaned in real close

“Pray, don’t forget

Thank me! For your grace.”

©paul

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