There was a poem
An e-tome of sorts
Lost forever because of its audacity
Largely inappropriate for the selected medium.
Language, child. Language.
It told of me.
It captured me.
It was me.
Then I shared it
Damn you
You know me now
And I know nothing more.
Quimmy's girl is lost
But it's so clearly still her
Angrily caught in a filter
Of self-inflicted censorship.
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