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Apr 2014
You are just a glass of milk
standing stagnant in the sun
and for the moment
you could cool my tongue;
any longer and you'd spoil.
Yet still inside lies the pus and hormones–
you're infected in a way that no one else can ever see.
You are vile, repugnant, putrid, *****.
To B.K., with loathing.
Victor Thorn
Written by
Victor Thorn  Oklahoma
(Oklahoma)   
592
 
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