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At Fault?

Am I at fault?
For my heart weeps at the thought.
Yet my brain tells me not to fuss.
I cant help but to feel at fault.
Its just that my tongue could not stand the taste.
My hand reacted like a mad cat.
Smacking the glass, killing that chance.
To taste what my mind had hate.
Dont cry for this mistake.
Its only split milk, a taste I could not take.

Monday, January 9, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: fun,opinion
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