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Think Plath

Think Plath.
Minimal.
Sweating, fretting
 
last chance before
put out to grass.
But she wants more.
 
Blood-letting
unhinged, on the fringe
insisting, threshing, sifting
 
no rest yet.
Harrowed; scrape the
barrel - clean.
 
Green men from Mars
stare bewildered
at the task. Ask ‘why?’
 
Survival? For fun?
Fifty unique words -
going dotty daily.
 
Quick. Think Plath.
Gas! There -  
Job done.
Written by Josh (Joshua Bond)
Published | Edited 9th Mar 2024
Author's Note
NaPo Day-24 contribution.

(photo credit: adrian-Xft-JdC-Jbc-unsplash)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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