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Àŧùl
Poems
Jul 2017
Loner
I speak of a sore loner,
A loner who had a *****,
And only his hands for help.
He's so scared of teenage pregnancy,
He spent his years juicing his sausage,
As he often got bored of 'his monotony'.
My HP Poem #1640
©Atul Kaushal
#loner
#sore
#hands
#juice
#the
#sausage
Written by
Àŧùl
33/M/Gòràkhpùr - Bháràŧ
(33/M/Gòràkhpùr - Bháràŧ)
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