T.B. Poem by Jankovic Zoran
T.B.
I know, my dear, T.B.
You might stab
My face like a real bee.
I know, my dear, T.B.
Like a real snake, maybe,
You're going to bite my knee.
But If you bite my soul
my sting will stab you:
A locked heart without a key.
Do you know that, my dear, T.B.?
Thursday, August 27, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: memorial day
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8/16/2025 5:31:42 PM # 1.0.0
Nice short and to the point. T.B. better be paying attention.