Blame Game
by Laurie Kolp
She sits around and thinks all day,
a cigarette she puffs away.
Her mind is black, the smoke is gray-
it’s not Doomsday, it’s not Doomsday.
The phone sits close and calls her name,
I hear it ring this childish game.
Alone no more she sounds the same-
who will she blame, who will she blame?
ARCHIVES.....FIRST DRAFTS.....
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