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T R S
Poems
Feb 2019
Ring a round the rosie
I saw all sort of phantoms on the
held of gate
I grew all sorts of angry when that grey ***
ghost had make me hate
Only until after
all the smoke had had to clear
was only when this punk as ghost had flexed
force I had to feel
So I had to flounder
I pickled in a ***
I stuck my **** in tinder
and now Im father THOT
Written by
T R S
29/M
(29/M)
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