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Ben Tol
Poems
Feb 2019
My Old Boss
What a *******,
A narcissistic racist,
But been to most places…
Smash! The steering wheel,
Death stare a pedestrian,
Why? The reoccurring question.
Slave to a coin and a ***** to alcohol,
Countless stories untold yet told,
Maturity wasn’t gained as this man grew old.
Written by
Ben Tol
21/M/London
(21/M/London)
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