Hollow

A sea shell that can’t be found by the sea shore
You’re, about as deep as a paper door
With as much substance as an empty store
Like that guy they named a movie for
Or, piggy banks and chocolate rabbits
Not like monks, nuns, and habits
Your soul is void like winter jackets
In June, you’re as see-thru as tennis rackets

poem by P.R. Prosper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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