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O how I loathe him, hideous man-child Bounding down the steep stairs of our house Barging through that shambles of a door, and leaving it open, the brute Clattering about the kitchen, cramped and yellow Rustling sweet wrappers as he raids the cupboards O fat disfigured son of mine I pray you leave this house for I love you no more The odour of a dying rat, the face of stoicism and sadness Leave, O leave disgusting boy, I love thee no longer My patience is tried, your mannerisms crude and vile Leave this domicile at once, for it is no longer a home
0
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 6:20 PM UTC
Musings on Mothers; Matrons of Unspoken Truths
O how I loathe him, hideous man-child Bounding down the steep stairs of our house Barging through that shambles of a door, and leaving it open, the brute Clattering about the kitchen, cramped and yellow Rustling sweet wrappers as he raids the cupboards O fat disfigured son of mine I pray you leave this house for I love you no more The odour of a dying rat, the face of stoicism and sadness Leave, O leave disgusting boy, I love thee no longer My patience is tried, your mannerisms crude and vile Leave this domicile at once, for it is no longer a home
reece
Written by
English
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 6:20 PM UTC
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