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Bailey Mar 2016
Since I was very young, I had a colorful mind.
Shapes, numbers, letters, sounds, memories
have colors
and personalities.
Triangle, 4, 7, and C are all light green,
9 is an evil wizard who turns numbers into 1 less that they want to be, while 10 is the good wizard who will make any little number a teen.
Yada yada.
My mom would say,
"Don't do it like that, just--just do the math!"
And I would say,
"Okay"
but the stories would replay in my head
still replay in my head.
"Mom, do you remember that wedding we went to?"
"Yes"
"That's orange now"
"Hmm?"
"It's been a while, so the memory turned orange"
"Ahhh, that's nice honey".
I grew up trying to figure out what I was
an alien?
an angel?
a monster?
just weird?
I now know that I have
S-Y-N-E-S-T-H-E-S-I-A
that's
black yellow yellow orange black brown red orange black white red
or
0 - - 3 0  10 8 3 0 1 8
something I have never shared before, and learned only a few months ago
Bailey Apr 2016
Take me away
from this place they call Earth

Take me away
from everything that hurts

Take me away
from my troubles and my tears

Take me away--take me away
from my tears
I'm a copy cat c: wanna see a better poem? Check out Star Gazer!
Bailey Apr 2016
This one time
I watched a special on T.V.
After the News.

This boy was epileptic
And the doctors took half of his brain out.
He was perfectly fine.
Just needed to practice using both hands and eyes.

I look around this school
And I see kids
Loving
With their brains.

My head swirls around
As they let go so easily.
Forget so, so easily.

Then,
My eyes land on you.
And your brain is fine
But
There is a big red stain on the front of your shirt.

I look down,
And there's a stain
On mine too.

The thing is,
It's easy to love with your brain
Because if you lose a part of it
You're okay.

But
People like us
Don't love with our brains.
We love with our hearts.
And sometimes they get cut up.

We have some band-aids but
We're still waiting
For stitches
From that one special
Person.

Until then
Sometimes our shirts get stained.
Yours, stained for him.
Mine, stained for you.
For Samm
Bailey May 2016
Our Father, which art now on Earth, I am here today to introduce you to one of the most faultless ideas that Man has ever come up with: Public High School. I will be your personal tour guide while you experience the magic of learning just as any other student would.
To start your day, you’ll wake up at five in the morning (due to the start times that are framed and super-glued to the walls of the District Office). You should spend most of your time trying to look presentable for your schoolmates. If you’re late and forget to do something, it’s easily fixable. For instance, if you can’t find the time within those two hours to brush your teeth--no problem! Just ask every living soul and their mother if they have any gum.
When you get on the bus, choose a seat in the middle. That way you don’t risk inhaling the tobacco in the back or a friendly conversation with the bus driver. If you see a friend, talk to them really loudly and excitedly, but not next to them! Always in the seat across from them (so the other kids have to sit next to strangers).
At school, we’ll weave through the teenage islands in the hallways and walk to first period. Make sure your first period is an easy subject, because at seven a.m., you’re lucky to get the date correct.
Down this hallway we see some testosterone pumped scholars congratulating each other on which estrogen-laced student they managed to have ******* with. To the left of them you’ll notice a shunned pregnant girl. Don’t talk to her. You should always remember that in high school, it is disgraceful to reproduce after having ***, never mind what the mandatory health classes say.
We finally get to first period to sit down in our graffitied, gum littered seat, and open the textbook---whereon the most heterosexual boys have educated us on the male anatomy. Your teacher is Mr. Anderson, whom all of the children hate because of his politically incorrect and harsh comments. I realize that you created him but really, don’t try to have him fired; he’s got a tenure hanging above his head.
After three classes of lectures and forbidden whispers, it’s mid morning and lunchtime. You’re lucky you own all of the food on your green Earth because if not, you’d have to choose from five different freezer-burned, reheated dishes. Time to scrutinize your identity and decide where to sit. You’re not even a being... well the floor isn’t so bad.
After six hours of violently trying to hang on to the Quadratic Formula, and not Grace's new relationship status, you can get back onto the thoughtfully engineered school bus and involuntarily listen to the sins of the weekend before, until you get home.
Thank you for visiting a little piece of heaven on earth. You’re one day closer to college!
satire is the best
Bailey Mar 2016
You turn the water on.
You pour in the neglected bubble bath liquid, you pour in a lot.
You are expecting much from this bottle as you empty it of its contents. You step into the tub and lay down.
Then you see; your toes stick out of the water, the water gets cold too fast, there are no toys to distract you from the awkward silence between you and the bubbles you were expecting to ease your pain, to set your mind free.
You curse the bubbles, stand up and pull the drain, not bothering to watch the soapy water swirl into nothingness.
You turn the shower on and rinse off.
You get out and wrap a towel around you and put on your sinful clothes.
You walk away from the bathroom.
It’s then that you realize your skin is baby soft, the bubbles had done something for you after all.
You forgot to thank them before you pulled that plug, sending them to their doom.
It wasn't their fault.
You are the one that grew, that left them in the back of your cupboard. You're ashamed for only about a minute before you return to your daily routine, only to get ***** once again.
broke the poem up because a few people suggested it
Bailey Mar 2017
She folded my little pudgy toddler hand and said, "this means 'I love you' in sign language". And since then, it's been every special goodbye and family signal. They've spread out farther as I got older, but every once in a while I'll get to see my Mommy hold her big, scarred hand up so I can see that she loves me. My eyes will fill up with happy tears because this is us and this is love and this cannot be changed.
More of an anecdote but still special enough to share <3
Bailey May 2016
I carry around a backpack, with the necessities.

Wooden sticks that make themselves known.
Different realities, encoded in letters.
Little metal discs that are exchangeable.
Pages of the past that are also in my brain.
A rectangle that sends my voice where ever I want it to.


I carry myself in a nervous way.

Hands close to my heart or over my stomach, holding myself together.
Shoulders forward, making myself small.
Shaky, apologetic whispers under my breath.


I carry impactful memories.

My brother's traumatized voice on April 19th.
My seventeenth birthday on April 21st.
Some embarrassing moments.
Some frightening moments.
Some good moments.


I carry titles that others give me.

Bailey
Bwee
Beeb
Bails
Martin
Miss
Ma'am
her
him
them
daughter
sister
brother
friend
******
junior
­teenager
drama queen
student 2014123
Pretty-Pretty.


I carry on.
Bailey Mar 2016
I like my poems medium rare
I like my clothes to look like couches
I like my thoughts to be deep, even though they make me scream.
I like my music meaningful
I like my dancing naked
I like my people whether they hate me or love me.
I like my romance movies
I like my speeches to move me
I like my infomercials even though I don't buy anything.
I like my flowers petted
I like my animals kissed
I like my coffee strong even though my thoughts make me crazy.
I like my boys sappy
I like my girls happy
I like myself, because I am the things I like.
Bailey Mar 2016
Well, little ****** had been caught in a maze
she married Mr. Cat in their honeymoon phase
On their little farm, a dish they would raise
but the cow and the dog, well they bet on days...

Little ****** knew about the Fiddle and the Cat
and she swore to herself that she would get them back
So, one night she popped up in the middle
and mean old Mr. Cat made a killer out of ******

"Woah! My perfect life!" She cried out with tears in her eyes
"Tell me, what I did wrong!" But a moo and a cackle interrupted her song

On the little farm
the dog and the cow
looked innocent as they lay on the ground
but ****** saw the cow jump to the moon
to see ****** **** the man that had made her swoon

The dog laughed and laughed 'til his face turned red
the cow paid in full as he had won the bet
The sound made ******
itch in the head
so she took a nearby ax and she
killed them dead

"Woah! My perfect life!" She cried out with tears in her eyes
"Tell me, what did I do?"
But she had no clue as to what would happen soon

Well little miss Dish was the talk of the town
Her and the Spoon had been forkin' around
When momma ****** tried to hunt them down
her baby Dish was nowhere to be found

"Woah! My perfect life! Shouldn't have been a mom or a wife"
So a traveler she became, making Goose her name
The towns had no idea of the words that they sang:

"Hey ****** ******, the Cat and the Fiddle
The cow
jumped over the moon
The little dog laughed to see such sport
and the Dish ran away with the Spoon"
it's actually a song I wrote the other day but here ya go
Bailey Apr 2016
I can still see it. I am twelve years old looking at my mom lay in her hospital bed. They told me she had a hole in her esophagus, and not too long ago, had been dying of blood loss. I stand still too shocked to cry, and in my trance I hear the hum of the t.v. behind me. And I know that if I flip through the channels right now I’ll land on a commercial depicting false paradise. Toned, tanned, pretty people on a beach smiling like they were in Heaven as they swallow down the drink that put my mom and my family through hell.

I am a biased person. This tragedy that I have gone through has made me biased about all subjects relating alcohol. If I were to have one wish, it would be to expel the very idea of alcohol from our heads. But I can’t do that, just as I can’t let my opinions cloud my vision for the future of the families of America. In this simple vision, alcohol advertising is banned from television and radio.

Researchers found that an average of 29 percent of alcohol TV ads in Houston, Los Angeles, Dallas, Atlanta and Chicago don’t abide by voluntary standards set by the industry, which involve not being shown during t.v. shows where at most 30 percent of the audience are kids. One out of eleven radio ads for alcoholic beverages in 75 markets across the nation in 2009 failed to comply with the alcohol industry’s voluntary standard for the placement of advertising.

Alcohol advertisements aren’t the only type of ads that violate our industry’s standards. We see it all the time, when some sketchy commercial on t.v. has microscopic words at the bottom or a radio ad has the bad information sped up quicker than our ears can catch.

I believe that alcohol shouldn’t be prohibited, because I believe that people are born with the right to choose what they want to do with their life. But with that in mind, let’s let them choose! No more brainwashing commercials that promise a good time, let us decide what we need in order to have a good time.

Maybe then there wouldn’t be 30 percent of American adults and one in five teenagers living with alcoholism, 6.6 million children living with alcoholic parents and tens of thousands of alcohol induced car crashes. I believe that this will change. But I don’t just believe for those numbers I said. Thirty, five, one, 6.6 million--what do numbers mean? Nothing.

I believe for the kid who thinks drinking might solve her problems. For the other kid who wants heaven, but doesn’t want to get there too quickly. I believe for the little boy who has to take care of his siblings because his father is a drunk and his mother works hard. For the guilt ridden, God fearing man who can’t stop falling asleep with a bottle in his hand, I believe.

I believe that for the good of America, alcoholic ads can be, and should be banned. Because I never want my mom to have to sit me down again and say, “Bailey, I fell off the wagon” all because of our bandwagon, conspicuous consumer society. Because there are moms and dads here, wishing their kids were in paradise--playing volleyball, building sandcastles, and collecting sand dollars. Because approximately 100,000 people will die this year of alcohol related deaths, 4,700 of them, teenagers.

In the 1970’s, Cigarette advertisements were banned from our television sets and radios. The 70’s were considered the “me” generation. Hopefully, alcohol advertising will be banned as well in 2016, because we are the generation of activists. We are the “we” generation.
Speech for school
Bailey Mar 2018
I'm laying here looking over at you while you sleep, and I'm thinking about how absolutely precious you are, and about just how much you mean to me. How are you so sweet and lovely? So soft and caring, so wonderful to be around? Never do I find myself wanting to be away from you. You're raw honey at its finest. So pure and thick on my mind. I love you.
Bailey Mar 2016
This feeling
is like being little again
and calling out to my mom
with tears in my eyes
because for a second
I forgot that I have just been punished by her
The one who loves me
can't help me yet
not until my punishment is over
But the difference is
with him
there is no "yet"
my punishment will never be over.
Bailey Jul 2016
I'm at the park on a beautiful, white-sunny day.
I'm with my loved ones, I see them playing in the sand.
My eyes get that lovely ache from the bright sun,
and I am warm, dry, and sleepy.
The wind tousles my hair softly,
I have dandelions in my pocket.
My head is hot and my feet are not.
I could stay this way for the rest of my days.

New bench, new scene.
Cooler wind, more green.
I smile at the leaves and yes, they smile back.
Ducks in the stream go quack quack quack.
Under my **** it says "NATE + MANDIE FOREVER".
Somewhere I wonder if they're still together.
Bailey Mar 2016
Today I saw a picture of me in your jacket
and my face fell down like rain
I just can't stop the racket
replaying in my brain
Thrown away
Thrown away
I'm not broken Daddy--please
Why did your love for me fade...
Nineteen days ago
I tore myself from you
Like the soft side of Velcro
Healthy enough to get a clue
Because you stopped calling me "baby"
You started to be grumpy
Didn't try to talk to me
All you did was touch me
In front of your friends like--
Like I was a prize
Which I sort of liked but
Then I realized
I became a body for you
Your way to accessorize
And now you're fine
Even when I said goodbye
My voice was shaking
Even after the news
Of you with her
Because I didn't want to hurt you
You were the boy who
Was better than the ones who bruised  me
And abused me
You used to hate the ones who used me
I don't know where your heart went
I held on so tight
But it slipped away
What didn't I do right?
I'm haunted by
The best memories of my life
I never thought you'd be added
To the faces that scare me at night
You protected  me
Scrubbed the dead skin off
'Til I was squeaky clean
And then you started making me feel *****
The worst part
Is that I feel guilty
Though you broke my heart
I'm just wilting
Like some stupid flower
You picked
Not because it was special
But because it was crying
Please leave me alone
Stop visiting me
I'm supposed to be safe at home
Please, please
I can't wait
Until the day
I stop loving you
And the things you say
Today I saw a picture of me in your jacket
And I wondered as I prayed
Why I deserve
The racket in my brain
This is about the ex love of my life.
Bailey Apr 2016
I used to like scene guys
then I had mean guys
I just want nice guys
but they're hard to come by
          .
I used to like crazy girls
found a few nice girls
made them my whole world
but always said goodbye
          .
And there were others
so sweet and
so kind
           .
We somehow knew each other
their pronouns like mine
           .
But of course
I don't deserve
such a beautiful treat
            .
I don't get kind
and I don't get sweet
            .
I get the crazy
I get the mean
I love everybody
and give what they need
Bailey Mar 2016
During a moving, late night conversation,
I told you I loved you.
You cried thankful, happy tears.
Today, out of the blue,
You told me you were in love with me.
I responded with slight annoyance, and fear.

The difference between
My words and yours
Is that I only say what I mean

But you say these things
Because in little doses
I wash away your insecurities.
I say these things because I love you in whatever way, and you say them so that I'll stay, but I don't want you in that way right now anyway. Get it?
Bailey Apr 2016
calm down
grow up
slow down
shut up
sit down
man up
blade down
head up
stop hurting my friend
Bailey Apr 2016
I lay sick with fits of tears.
Concussion of the heart.
I walk around to shake it off.
It only makes it worse.
To pretend.
To try to be happy while my brother endures excruciating pain.
Yes, it is my birthday tomorrow.
But I wish it weren't.
Because I don't want to be happy for a long time.
Not until his bones heal.
Not until his mind heals.
Brother, if you can hear me:
I would give anything for you to feel better.
I'm so sorry that I can't be with you.
I gave my birthday money to mom so she could fly down there.
To see you, and thank the man who pulled you out in the nick of time.
I know I always wanted to see you cry.
For all the years you bullied me.
But now I want nothing more than for you to stop crying.
Because you don't get hurt.
Not my big brother.
Not you.
I know I always said I hated you.
But I don't.
I love you.
I love you so, so, so, so much, Clyde.
More than you will ever know, I love you.
Mom told me not too long ago, about when we were little.
She said that no matter what you did, I still defended you.
And when you were punished, my heart broke for you.
I remember crying, when you would sneak out.
When you did drugs.
When you went to jail.
Because you're so amazing.
Your soul is beautiful, to me.
I have always been there for you.
No matter what you put me through.
I will always be there for you.
And I will not let you down tonight, or any other night.
I will fight for you, and make sure you're in good hands.
**** me to Hell if I let Dad so much as look at you again.
You'll be okay soon, I promise.
I love you, goodnight.
My brother is alright, but his own father locked him out of the house with a broken rib and knee. He has his medication, and is now staying with his older half-sister. Out of all the terrible things that man has done, (and he's done a lot) this is the worst. I will never forgive him. But the important thing is, Clyde is safe. My mom will be flying down to see him on Friday, and to thank the man that saved his life.
Bailey Dec 2017
your secrets are stuck between my ears,
your worries safely nested on my shoulders

your future tears dry on my shirt, your open heart covered by my body

your protection and happiness is my daily wish.
Vow
Bailey Oct 2016
Vow
In a giant, scary world full of wonder and chaos,
I am little.
I am tiny and I have known it since I was young.
I would have thoughts about waking up and coming to the realization that I was really a grain of sand.
I grew up with no voice, no muscles, no anger.
I only had my imagination,
and the passionate love that I felt for all things living.
In recent years,
I have found more of a voice,
I have gained a thin layer of muscle,
a spark of anger.
I have grown into the person that I want to be.
All I need is someone who I can give all of my massive amounts of love to.
Someone who is deserving of the person that I have strived to become,
and someone who will stick by my side and make the world seem a little less scary.
A partner, a friend, a true love.
And I have found him.
Bailey May 2016
I sit here now typing away at my beloved laptop
that I got for Christmas.
Something I never in a million years thought I would have.
I sit here because I was assigned to write.
Write about what? I'm not sure.
There wasn't a prompt,
just some Langston Hughes poem.
But I'm not thinking about that poem.
I'm thinking about other schoolwork and tomorrow
and faded memories of an old friend
leading me down a cold, black street.
I'm thinking about the burger I ate that night and
about how I'll never wake up on time at this rate.
My high school career in a nutshell I guess.
Being assigned things and half-assing them.
Then painting or writing poetry afterward
when the papers have already been turned in.
Rarely able to put myself into my assignments.
I tucked my mother in ten minutes ago and I should be asleep but
this assignment matters
even though it does not.
It does not matter to me
in it's original form
as a microscopic detail
in my big portrait of life.
Assignment-
grade-
percentage-
GPA-
graduation-
college-
gr­aduation again-
more college-
career-
money-
food-
survival-
.
Of course I have passions,
but my teachers do not see them
do not experience them
because they cannot assign me to
do what I want
express what I want
learn what I want
for a grade like
I am doing here.
So I cannot bring my passions to high school
but who cares?
All I have ever cared about
since kindergarten
when I decided not to drop out
was getting to a university.
I have dealt with
busy work and bullies
stress and standardized tests
and missing six hours, five days a week
of my life
to try and get to this place.
A place where
I wouldn't have to ask for a pink crayon
to draw an udder
on my udderless cow.
I could just go buy a pink crayon
and redraw the whole cow myself if I wanted to.
College for me was
the place where I could finally learn
information relevant to what I wanted to pursue in life.
The things that I am learning in high school
are fine I guess...
intriguing most of the time.
But I know deep down I know
that for twelve years I've just been
moseying along.
Getting average grades only so I could reach
this place
where I could be free to learn about things that obtain to me.
Where I digested information
and didn't spit it back out for a grade.
Where education is optional and
my assignments would lead me
to something more.
More.
I don't think I did this assignment right,
but this assignment doesn't matter
even though
it does.
for AP Language and Composition
Bailey May 2017
The ocean, sunny days, vintage picnic baskets, pigtails, laughter, tire shops, vanilla soft serve ice cream, bubble gum, warm nights, cool sheets, skin, morning quiet, orange juice, bubbles, grass, ladybugs, kisses.
Bailey Jul 2016
For the sleepless days, the energy-less nights,
for our day-mares, for the night-dreams,
for our nightmares, for our day-dreams,
for the sleepless nights, for the energy-less days.
We ponder why we are here.
Why do we feel what we feel?
The things that keep us up till 3 am.
The ones that make us fall asleep at 12 pm.
For our demons that tell us sweet lies,
that keep us thinking "what if?"
For the angel that tells us that everything will be ok,
for when we win out against the demon.
For when we are truly happy.
For our good days, for our bad days.
For the days where we can't tell our motive.
For the days when we don't know how to go about.
For all of this, we are human.
These are why we call ourselves human.
We over come, we bite it,
we are human.
a friend wrote this
Bailey Mar 2016
Hi, how are you?
They ask while
Passing by in the halls

If you really wanted to know
I think to myself
You would have made time for my answer

But instead
They ask quickly
As if to say:
" I am a well-bred person

asking you how you are
making you rush through your brain
for an answer
only to let out
an okay
or fine "

What will it take
For people to stop
Being
Fake
Polite
?
If you don't have time to hear an adequate answer, don't ask.
Bailey Oct 2016
Whisper (x6)

I can see your face, honey, under the moon
I'll retrace my thoughts over your brow bone too
And I know that you'll love me, won't you?

I can taste your skin, under, my fingertips
I can feel your ****** hair surround my lips
and I know that we'll stay here like this...

Whisper (x5)

You're original, you're original
You are original, original, original to me
You're a miracle, you're a miracle, oh you're a miracle, a miracle, a miracle to me...

I know you're exhausted, boy
I'm tired too
Tiring to work by choice, more so to move
So let's be still, the morning's too soon

The rays are pouring out the window
I see them clear
Let the sun touch us, I know
You'll be right here
And you'll hold me, so tightly, so dear...

Whisper (x5)

And the days when it's just so hard to smile
Can we stay here, lay here, and whisper
A little while?
A little while

Whisper (x6)
https://soundcloud.com/iguessimbaileymartin/whisper
Bailey Apr 2016
So many tragedies surrounding me
I, in the middle of it all
I know I'm thinking selfishly
In my little bubble of pity
Crying every single night
While praying everyone be happy
Wishing things were still alright

I saw something that shouldn't be seen
Which provokes my messy scrawl
The heartbreak of my family
The pain of my sibling
I long to help out with the fight
But I'm stuck in this city
Wishing things were still alright

I'm flitting in between
Climbing and hitting a wall
Do I shake and cry and make a scene?
Do I stand up strong and keep it clean?
After seeing this sight
Do I strive to be happy or keep
Wishing things were still alright
?

Maybe I should go to sleep
Stop scrounging for a bit of light
But I know even then I'll be
Wishing things were still alright.
first ballade (not ballad)
Bailey Oct 2016
I guess I love you so
More than you'll ever know,
Because you never knew
The years I hid it from you.
There is a fresh faced me,
And a said "broken" you.
Though your heart is unscathed
And mine is glued.
This I mean
In the most romantic of terms,
I know that many loved ones
Have laid down their burns.
But here we are,
Defying pessimism
With our naked hearts
And undying optimism.
Where shreds of doubt and fear should be,
Instead I give you all of me.
"Take my hand,
take my whole life too"
Because no one on this earth
Will ever amount to you.
Bailey Apr 2016
I awoke after an eternal night,
full of frustration and sadness and bliss.
The next hour, which would feel like minutes,
would break my heart.
I shook with anger and my right eye spewed a fat, hot tear.
It slid down my cool cheek,
and I whispered, "that felt good".
A thousand screams ripped out of me at once,
penetrating the air and making my small town's ears quiver,
and their hearts cower.
Every bird within a mile's radius
flew from my presence as I shot from the ground
like a bullet from a gun.
My hair grew down and swayed over the trees,
fifty feet of strong, thick mane.
I felt my bones turn cold as they have a thousand times before,
but this time I felt my scapulas crack like ice,
and make room for the new appendages
that would become the sky.
I fell for ten seconds, fearlessly, before I felt myself grab at the air.
I kicked uselessly, unused to the sensation,
until my wrath filled me to the brim
until I was awash in euphoria.
I lifted impossibly farther into the atmosphere
and my enhanced pupils sought out little flecks of light.
I looked downward, toward all who I had pardoned,
who had mercilessly used me, and broke me down.

And I wept for them.

My long forgotten tears soared down like meteors onto the Earth's surface.
Drowning out the sin.
Washing away the pain.
Cleansing the unholy.
Removing the evil.
Creating
one
last
eternal night.
Bailey Aug 2016
Words daze me and spin me into that state of mind where all is fine.
Mania mania mania and not a query is made.
It's hot outside, frostbite---freezing cold sunburns.
They all thought that I was awake but I knew, just as I know.
Oh I know. This poetic infection has got me again, and as years pass...I'll see those colors appear in my memories.
They'll streak across the beautiful face that I am transfixed upon.
I know this, I know. But it feels so good!
And there are slight differences that shall give me more time:
Laughter and actions.
They are the antidote to this poetic infection.
They clear the path for my irises.
Eyes can now take in the real world,
lead it into my mind and soul.
Yes, he's a safe one.
You're a safe one for me and my short lifespan.
Bailey Jun 2016
Shoe fries, JoJos
Scalloped potatoes, Mashed potatoes
Baked potatoes, Hashbrowns, Tatertots
Latkas, Potato soup, French fries, Home fries
Diced potatoes, Potato chips, Curly fries
Potato pies, Riced potatoes, Spudnuts
Potato salad, Poutine

— The End —