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Fuck It Why Not

Touch the fucking stove again,

I dare you.

I fear the burn my dear,

For you,

But I salivate at the thought of your knowing wince,

Your tearful eye,

Your red white and blue being hung out to dry.

Just do it already,

Lets all just agree,

Let the jester be king so the blind can then see.

 

◄ Bit, Healed, Itchy not Bleeding

In Not So Many Words ►

Comments

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Jade Kelly

Sat 11th Jun 2016 13:00

I like this poem

- Jade

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