It holds form but lift the lid
Take a look
It’s like under a rock
Or a redneck garden
It smells of old milk and meat
But soldier’s, gym instructors,
Full-blown artists possessed by
Caprice egos
They find it and know
It’s not theirs
It’s just timing
And sentences
It’s walking and doing things
You don’t want to
See those widows
That repeat the same day
Those deformities
See the poor with their kids
They’ve got it
See the diseased, the fatties,
The misogynists
They’ve got it
The unhygienic
Sexually promiscuous
The beasts
Them too
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