THE POT ARTIST
THE POT ARTIST poems stories
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sayrathegreat
sayrathegreat smart people leave before they are left
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
A poem for my amazing mom

THE POT ARTIST

She sits on her desk Without any rest. Thinking 'bout the world

Her life already written, Her tale already told

But will she ever fit in the mold?

She doesn't paint her pots anymore.

''I'm too busy'' She's always busy. She doubts herself again Will the hereafter ever begin?

But she has a hidden talent A talent no one has, Pots are her talent.

She's my mother, She's like no other, She's my pot artist.

OK, I REALLY NEED TO KNOW WHY THE HECK U GUYS ARE FOLLOWING ME. THANK U GUYS SO MUCH!!! STAY AMAZING AND KEEP WRITING.

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