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JT
Poems
May 2020
untitled ACAB poem
Detective in the parlor room
asks who killed mr. body?
Corpse cools,
questions asked,
tense stares,
fingers pointed,
clues counted,
truth found,
justice served,
just kidding.
It was the detective,
in the open,
with his bare hands,
and everybody saw him do it.
Written by
JT
25/F/Maryland, USA
(25/F/Maryland, USA)
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MS Anjaan
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Bogdan Dragos
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