Shuli washed her hair twice that day. One for her love to cleanse all impurities of reality and one for herself. She took a nap twice that day. One for love that took her melatonin, And another to forget. Shuli laughed twice that day. One on behalf of her tainted Love, And another on her botched brain cells. She cried a quarter that day. Half a quarter filled with anger, and the other half with shame. She danced twice that day, One for lost time on love, And another for her love for dance. Shuli wrote twice that day, One for her heart and Other for her brain. She gave two hugs that day, One for her wet pillow And another for herself. Shuli played hostess twice that day, One for her pain and the last for her sanity.
Expressions penned with feathery Excalibur!