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smallhands
Poems
Mar 2016
jeux de la faim
it's a **** arena, isn't it?
the contenders sense it, too
you spectate while I battle
this out
onto bad intellect swings
the blade
tracing scandalous imageries
into corrupt teeth
isn't it a devil's game,
one we cannot win?
-c.j.
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smallhands
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