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Stephen S
Poems
Jun 2019
Scorecard
Ten grueling rounds.
Eight twisted shadows.
Seven broken bones
Four bruised ribs.
Three kicks to the gut.
Two knives in the back,
One ****** lip.
And a final, crushing blow to the head.
All that remains is the cold stench
of betrayal.
I have lost the war with my worst enemy.
Me.
Written by
Stephen S
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