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Mar 22
the fork in your tongue
is old
not young
forged in venom
and not by sun
not of this plain
pleasured by pain
pleasured by blood
caused by your stain
you slither and slide
seethe and hide
propped up by your maker's nonsensical pride
hatred injected by you in our sons
following her footsteps of all that's become
your cancer will **** you
it's certain
it's true
your demise is cemented by the evil in you
have you asked for forgiveness
no, never
not once
I hope in your end
you face God’s vengeful punch
Written by
Ann Terrin  Nahant, MA
(Nahant, MA)   
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