Two Parts of My Mind (and other poems)

The Girl Makes a Foe

The Girl who made another cry,

Who doesn't care if people die,

Who walks this Earth with such disgrace,

Who doesn't know she's out of place.

If only those around will see,

What the other means to me,

This brutish Girl does not know,

Her supposed friend is her foe.

I wish I'd tell her to her face,

That to all eyes she wastes this space,

But underneath those azure eyes,

A cunning, crafty fox does lie.

And if I tell this truth to her,

She wouldn't call me cow or cur,

But keep to herself, 'til one day,

A plan, so simple, comes her way.

A plan so hard to unfold,

A plan so far that is untold,

Until she's snared me in her trap,

To which all stare, then all clap.

So maybe one day I will tell,

The secrets that were hid so well.

But I take one day at a time,

For Teacher was Girl in this rhyme.