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Open Mic Burn Triolet

Why did you hold me with such scorn,

that each overlooked minute could burn

into me? Casting my forlorn

soul into shadows seething with scorn.

My cloak of waiting worn

in vain. My expectations torn

from my spirit, amid the scorn

of the eclectic click - set to evade and burn.

Author notes

This happened at a local open mic in which my name never got called. People, friends of the host, all got called instead.

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