The odd
duck
spun a cocoon wrap of
armor against pellets
...
Unmasked, cold, blank,
the bullet killed the gold painter,
shielding thieves taking millions
to mock his hurt, his toil, his worth.
...
The fairyland gloss on life
erodes as we age and saps
or weakens her fizz of joy.
...
The Odd Duck's Prized Waddle
The odd
duck
spun a cocoon wrap of
armor against pellets
hitting with odd duckling
taunts, but there's dent making
pins waking her hurt.
She digs and they laugh
hit her
strange waddles
But she
digs
out a robust gift of
talent, all hers, spurring
her to ascend blooming,
shocking the blind stunted
group's pride as she rose.
They tried but could not
rub her
prized waddle.