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T R S
Poems
Oct 2019
Make me food
you ****.
you never gave a ****.
You ate twice as much Mcdonalds as the
push ups you did.
You let your ID lead your life.
And you followed all the money.
So just because you're told you're funny...
you aint.
You're tire
and faint.
and sorry.
And I hate to say....
but a loser.
Who shows up dead.
Shriveled and spread out.
Layered.
With out.
Doubted and dead.
And made into a spread.
Written by
T R S
29/M
(29/M)
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