A Poem

This is how I feel about interviews. Ahem.

So tear away my flesh.

You think me raw and unassuming.

Like  a sly fox, you are.

Your mind composed,

like the barrel of a gun.

But I, I am not the prey.

Just the young spirit that will always triumph the aging keeper.

Cheers,

The Duchess of New York

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Filed under My Work, Rants

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