Inside Margins

The poetess wrote wrong lines
Twenty streets to search for signs

She should have begun over again
She should have not retired pen

Aroma of ink and power in hand
Forcing fingers fires planned

Into type and written styles
On the page complete with smiles

The poetess penned a poem
Spying stanzas from her home

Twenty avenues explored
While little clues leaked and scored

Spilling Sea and all her thoughts
On the page by which it plots

She should have kept herself pure
She should have not kept the score

Sifting words in search of gold
Inside margins where eyes rolled
 
The poetess scribed shame by grace
Twenty hints left in her place

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