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"suffixes" poems
Can we exchange dialogue from master scripts too ten minute plays? Inhaling every exhale from your line breaks Prefixes soothing my ear drums intellect holding suffixes. Allowing your stories to take me too worlds literature can’t reach. Where archetypes are dynamic antagonists don’t exist and you’re the only character not flat. Stasis starts situations When you’re the intrusion I follow all stage directions put me inside your prepositions, cover me in your verbs let me hold your nouns lay my head on your adverbs and fall asleep to your adjectives.
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May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 9:37 PM UTC
An Uncommon Dialouge
you can hear the echo via Zizek the Slovak, well, attire me in slavic myths and i'll be mumbling purrs in mud too for a helium bubble to become a comedian, i know a jittery ******* addiction when i see one... if one thing the catholic schooling system taught me was how to avoid sniffing glue and how to recognise a Freudian apostle - still, with all the hippy **** you'd think sniffing glue was what Ukrainian existentialism prescribed with paracetamol, catholic education just said: no no. **** me it's the late 90s and we're talking post-Chernobyl antics... but that's how i see the left, leftist politics, the right                utilises prefixes and suffixes in the old stance of simple pre- pro-                                     anti-                                             qua-                                                                -so so... the left? oh they're right in there... their prefixes are                                 Marxist- liberal-                                          Hegelian-              whatnot...                                                 they don't use abstract prefixes,                                           their prefixes are concrete,                         they want the porridge in their mouth to ensure a slur that never comes, among a range of onomatopoeias they argue from the perspective of the hushed and ushered crowd, via one observation: Stalin clapped after a speech to enjoin with the crowd, a real big brother, ****** never clapped, a sitting-duck method; i'm not advocating, but by a proxy placebo dynamo experimenting, it's called experimenting with thought rather than practising with will, former no chance of footstep evaluation for cult status imitable -                                       the left intellectual has no rubric of thought concerning to and fro - it has to be concrete layered and a shut off perfect architecture without fault - it can't be what it is -                                       con- has to be conservative                                                   pro- has to be socialist                                      you once said legitimate transparency - but you didn't say legislation - well, the left understood it as legislation, the right too wanted legitimate transparency - the green party said we could have neither but could have the replanting of a thousand oak trees with a Robin Hood placard on the first oak tree replanted in Sherwood Forest... b. ~ d. ~... shot ~100 bent arrows into a bullseye - hurrah! hurrah! maid marian lost her virginity too! to a broomstick rather than maradona's fingernail toothpick! at an essex market the cockney shouts (out of place): *** yer courgettes! *** yer courgettes! ta fa a pudding! ta fa a pudding! *** yer cucumbers! tooth firth 'un!
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Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 9:50 PM UTC
i don't talk
you can hear the echo via Zizek the Slovak, well, attire me in slavic myths and i'll be mumbling purrs in mud too for a helium bubble to become a comedian, i know a jittery ******* addiction when i see one... if one thing the catholic schooling system taught me was how to avoid sniffing glue and how to recognise a Freudian apostle - still, with all the hippy **** you'd think sniffing glue was what Ukrainian existentialism prescribed with paracetamol, catholic education just said: no no. **** me it's the late 90s and we're talking post-Chernobyl antics... but that's how i see the left, leftist politics, the right                utilises prefixes and suffixes in the old stance of simple pre- pro-                                     anti-                                             qua-                                                                -so so... the left? oh they're right in there... their prefixes are                                 Marxist- liberal-                                          Hegelian-              whatnot...                                                 they don't use abstract prefixes,                                           their prefixes are concrete,                         they want the porridge in their mouth to ensure a slur that never comes, among a range of onomatopoeias they argue from the perspective of the hushed and ushered crowd, via one observation: Stalin clapped after a speech to enjoin with the crowd, a real big brother, ****** never clapped, a sitting-duck method; i'm not advocating, but by a proxy placebo dynamo experimenting, it's called experimenting with thought rather than practising with will, former no chance of footstep evaluation for cult status imitable -                                       the left intellectual has no rubric of thought concerning to and fro - it has to be concrete layered and a shut off perfect architecture without fault - it can't be what it is -                                       con- has to be conservative                                                   pro- has to be socialist                                      you once said legitimate transparency - but you didn't say legislation - well, the left understood it as legislation, the right too wanted legitimate transparency - the green party said we could have neither but could have the replanting of a thousand oak trees with a Robin Hood placard on the first oak tree replanted in Sherwood Forest... b. ~ d. ~... shot ~100 bent arrows into a bullseye - hurrah! hurrah! maid marian lost her virginity too! to a broomstick rather than maradona's fingernail toothpick! at an essex market the cockney shouts (out of place): *** yer courgettes! *** yer courgettes! ta fa a pudding! ta fa a pudding! *** yer cucumbers! tooth firth 'un!
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Words They're all I know They've kept me from Suicide Kept me from Emotionally exploding They helped me Understand me I feel sorry for the illiterate people Because our capability To write Helps make us human To see our flaws And correct them To tell our story Our fantasies Our dreams and Our imagination is Clearly expressed through words Spoken and written I love words Love the big ones And the small I love compund words Or words with prefixes and suffixes I love words Because I feel as though They will never leave me They are here until my sanity is gone,if ever And I can smile each day knowing That even if life isn't going great There is a story About a girl Who's life is finally starting to get better.
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Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 2:01 PM UTC
Words For A Writer
It starts as a faint buzz in your ears Then you ignore it for days, even years "It's no big deal. I'm okay," you say "It will probably just go away." But it never did, to your displeasure You did say "probably" for good measure And you wonder if that single seed of doubt Would be how your tomorrow turns out The buzzing grows louder like the chattering of birds Prefixes and suffixes, but not quite words You try to make sense of it, but try is all you accomplish Your only clue is it was spoken in English Days rolled by without end The sounds seemed harder to comprehend But soon enough, you started hearing a tiny voice in your head The day the batteries went dead And you take off the headphones you've been wearing all your life Surprised to discover a world full of violence and strife I guess that old saying is true, it appears We only hear what we want to hear *But you can hear me now, can't you? Tell me you hear the cries of the widows and the fatherless, too This war is a lie; that is all it ever was And devour our humanity is all it ever does* *But hearing never really gets us anywhere Tell me what do you do now that you're aware? Will you march on the streets and spread the word? Or will you go on pretending like you never heard?* *Tell me, tell me, tell me what to do Good men are dying and we are, too Open up your eyes; can't you see? I am you and you are me* **The voices grew into cacophony A harsh, discordant sound devoid of harmony Into a crescendo it roared along with the bombs of war Slowly revealing to us the monsters that we are** **First went Little Boy then down went Fat Man The loudest noise ever created by man, 248 decibels, ending a tale of two cities And then** ... silence.
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Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 4:10 AM UTC
The Day the Batteries Went Dead
It starts as a faint buzz in your ears Then you ignore it for days, even years "It's no big deal. I'm okay," you say "It will probably just go away." But it never did, to your displeasure You did say "probably" for good measure And you wonder if that single seed of doubt Would be how your tomorrow turns out The buzzing grows louder like the chattering of birds Prefixes and suffixes, but not quite words You try to make sense of it, but try is all you accomplish Your only clue is it was spoken in English Days rolled by without end The sounds seemed harder to comprehend But soon enough, you started hearing a tiny voice in your head The day the batteries went dead And you take off the headphones you've been wearing all your life Surprised to discover a world full of violence and strife I guess that old saying is true, it appears We only hear what we want to hear *But you can hear me now, can't you? Tell me you hear the cries of the widows and the fatherless, too This war is a lie; that is all it ever was And devour our humanity is all it ever does* *But hearing never really gets us anywhere Tell me what do you do now that you're aware? Will you march on the streets and spread the word? Or will you go on pretending like you never heard?* *Tell me, tell me, tell me what to do Good men are dying and we are, too Open up your eyes; can't you see? I am you and you are me* **The voices grew into cacophony A harsh, discordant sound devoid of harmony Into a crescendo it roared along with the bombs of war Slowly revealing to us the monsters that we are** **First went Little Boy then down went Fat Man The loudest noise ever created by man, 248 decibels, ending a tale of two cities And then** ... silence.
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oasis soul aches open sored genre of suffixes or not enough crying alone right natural science psychologists know the medications and forms to get the payments I am drugged amazement willing to watch and sigh dreaming of a good time, dose shelters the destination faster than reality.
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Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 3:32 AM UTC
oasis soul
In just seven steps, you can find out: • How to make the best scrambled eggs [pepper ‘n love] • How to improve Scrabble scores [suffixes are our friends] • How to buy a house [budget before sealing the deal] • How to think like Leonardo Da Vinci [infectious curiosity and commitment] But despite the obscene amount of time, I spend scouring and scrolling, I can’t seem to stumble upon, The part of the Internet, That has the instructions, To keep your heart happy, While keeping my mind sane. Perhaps the sadness and insanity, Will be a welcome change, Allowing us to rediscover each other, In the most honest light.
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Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 11:51 PM UTC
How To Not Get Rid of You.
Derk! The Harold angels sing. The muffin is my savior. Jesus lies. Pacific Islands. The screaming of fires. Rulers. Words. Meters. Feet. The magnetic field is the only field. If I could trust baseball, I would. But cereals, Vonnegut, lies. -ectomy. The ubiquitous suffix. Suffixes make the world hell. -ism, -itis, -like, -tude, cease your silly constructions! Constructions are power I will smash bye bye now
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Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
Cowboy
After Pamela Sutton’s “Forty” Since when are words lost, numbers dominating? Until today, it was vernacular, not mathematics. All changed at 18 when numbers engulfed my life like a tsunami. 1 life. 1 drive to school, traffic on the 405, 25 minutes; 10-minute parking; first class at 8. 8 dollars per hour x 3 day work week = no shopping. Under my parents’ life insurance, for now. One life. One dream of commencement, a sea of black and gold; students as adults, graduating, growing up, careers: the only things that matter now. One dream of wheeling a patient into the OR and he grasps my hand. One saved life. 66 specialties for a nurse. 8 stories in CHOC Hospital; 279 beds. One goal for everyone; nurses, patients, families— disease-free, healthy. One hospital specializing in children; one in Orange, thousands of facilities. One late night in Riverside the kitchen fluorescents slowly brings the eyes of two, one father, one daughter, to a close. 58 notecards, handwriting messy and smudged. 12 prefixes, 37 roots, 9 suffixes. 44 years: 1 student: Dad. The point where my future was clear. One goal, one career, one life. The subtle hum of the white lights lulls us to sleep as the room slowly darkens. September 2013
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Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 1:33 AM UTC
Eighteen
Corroding off in wreckless control Repeated lines stretching infinitely in ambiguity Sharp muscle relaxant mistakes As we career off the road Into a ravenous singularity We are unforgiving, cynical yet synthetically joyous Quick to pardon Whipped with a gold leash Delicate, leaves, Celtic music Rubik's cubes in our throats We're ready to let love in, willing Nova tech, drunk masks and indication Indignation, we clutch, we fail Partial to conditions Stones out of focus Accelerate Engines bleed borders You are the free way Impotent with quartz remnants Ruins to our fantasy You hide history Covered in my burrow Braking until necks break & bags burst Powdered hair, liquid lips Let's drive home Go beyond the limit Break each others bones And crush our entities Suffocate on suffixes Her explanation acquits the doubt As we appear closer than we may actually be Industrial stacks stretch towards invisibility Letting go of their concentrate Gelatin mind levitate into connection Cups turned upside down Entrapping ego in near vacuum Aqua ducts bouncing off feline eyes 2 & a 4 Perfect air in a foreign atmosphere Spinned on axis, ways to conduct Your supply Secede madness Eternal order Lungs sharply inhale with uncertainty Hydroplaning your attempts at adultery Decision was never your thing Unmoving at every turn Passion with objects Reactions flicker between humility It gives gifts Your skin melts to the touch Chocolate in magma Molten sound deafens drench Jealous mess, dividend Hugging and dripping black with stability Back, holy scripture written with integration Sealed with treachery, acetate photography Capturing clear innocence Boredom and sinfulness Spiked militant Pencil drawn neuroses, veil Bow down to schematics, we're radar Sonar structure solar It's all part of the process
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Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
...And So The Aurora Guided Them Down The Red Hills Towards The Meadow
Corroding off in wreckless control Repeated lines stretching infinitely in ambiguity Sharp muscle relaxant mistakes As we career off the road Into a ravenous singularity We are unforgiving, cynical yet synthetically joyous Quick to pardon Whipped with a gold leash Delicate, leaves, Celtic music Rubik's cubes in our throats We're ready to let love in, willing Nova tech, drunk masks and indication Indignation, we clutch, we fail Partial to conditions Stones out of focus Accelerate Engines bleed borders You are the free way Impotent with quartz remnants Ruins to our fantasy You hide history Covered in my burrow Braking until necks break & bags burst Powdered hair, liquid lips Let's drive home Go beyond the limit Break each others bones And crush our entities Suffocate on suffixes Her explanation acquits the doubt As we appear closer than we may actually be Industrial stacks stretch towards invisibility Letting go of their concentrate Gelatin mind levitate into connection Cups turned upside down Entrapping ego in near vacuum Aqua ducts bouncing off feline eyes 2 & a 4 Perfect air in a foreign atmosphere Spinned on axis, ways to conduct Your supply Secede madness Eternal order Lungs sharply inhale with uncertainty Hydroplaning your attempts at adultery Decision was never your thing Unmoving at every turn Passion with objects Reactions flicker between humility It gives gifts Your skin melts to the touch Chocolate in magma Molten sound deafens drench Jealous mess, dividend Hugging and dripping black with stability Back, holy scripture written with integration Sealed with treachery, acetate photography Capturing clear innocence Boredom and sinfulness Spiked militant Pencil drawn neuroses, veil Bow down to schematics, we're radar Sonar structure solar It's all part of the process
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My bastardized Latin name approximating "[One who] reflects inner wisdom." I love playing with etymology. Cogitationis roughly translates to "thinking/meditation/reflection" Sapien sort-of means "wise/wisdom/sentient" (like **** Sapiens) Intrum is something like "inner/inside/within" and the letter u was once writ as the letter v in the Latin world, so I replaced the us with vs and trifled with likely absolutely incorrect suffixes to make it more fun to say. Hence: Cogitatio Sapientvs Intrvm
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Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 10:13 PM UTC
Cogitatio Sapientvs Intrvm
Atoms Ions Protons Neutrons Electrons Periodic Table Moles Molecules amus Molarity Dilutions Titrations Calorimetry Bond Enthalpy Redox reactions Non-redox Oxidization calories Calories Solubility rules RICE tables Stoichiometry Polyatomic ions Prefixes Suffixes Intensive Extensive Imperial units Metric units . . . I don't understand yet
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Oct 20, 2017
Oct 20, 2017 at 4:16 PM UTC
AP Chemistry...2 Months In
I think I may be the only man who enjoyed lying in bed re-reading THE COLLEGE GUIDE TO GRAMMAR that every Andover student had to buy while my girlfriend and her nine-year-old son were in the living room memorizing lines from OVER THE RAINBOW on TV. I also enjoyed reading Webster's entire 3rd Edition Dictionary. It was Dr. Gillingham, an Andover English teacher who had gotten his PhD from Oxford, who introduced me to the HARBRACE VOCABULARY WORKSHOP, an incredible tool with which to study etymology, a lifelong hobby of mine. Essentially, one learned the prefixes, roots, and suffixes of the Anglo-Saxon, Latin, and Greek languages and thereby was often able to take an English word, it's meaning as yet un- known, break it into its parts, and begin to understand the meaning of the English word. I found this exciting. The goal was not to become pedantic, but as a poet, to be able to choose the "precise" word needed to convey as well as possible the meaning of the entire poem. What fun! TOD HOWARD HAWKS
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Mar 20, 2023
Mar 20, 2023 at 3:32 AM UTC
WHAT FUN!
I am wearing a ***** shirt, It is crumpled and twice worn before On days when laughter echoed the halls Of aorta and vena cava, But the sound curdled and went stale As entropy ran through veins, As my name rang in your ear, The animosity grew in your cold stare. I am wearing odd socks. I haven’t found a partner, Nor do I understand the use Of matching two things the same. If I were in love with the mirror Then I should just wear one sock, Let my sock’s noose sink into my supple skin And slowly cut my ankle. I haven’t washed my tie In the entire time I have owned it, Or the time it has owned me, I feel the ***** cotton, wrapped Tight around my neck- Binding my words, Suffocating my suffixes, And the most heavenly of words have bruises… The whitest of silken beds, Was marred with blood Before it was clad in armour, Now nothing can harm her. Nothing gets in.. The covers are not warm And nobody sleeps there. Less of a bed now, Thinks defensively, now. The colour begins to fade. Ethereal façade I don’t leave my door open anymore, Darkness crept in And I don’t dare let it out. I have grown fond of the colour, Or lack of it. Personal pronouns- The more I use the word ‘I’, The less fond I become of it.
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Aug 28, 2019
Aug 28, 2019 at 4:56 PM UTC
The 'I' my Clothes Wear Today
Someone once told you, “You can always fit into the ideal Some pins and needles and metals and creams shall do the work!” So you can flaunt your pretty face, “Get rid of that crooked teeth” “ Lemons shall bleach your lips” “Ha-ha, you have hair on your face” “Do this to tone your arms” “ Take this for fairer skin” “ Time for a nose job?” So what did you do? You smiled with your lips closed, For insecurities lingered there and shut them tight. “That's better” and so the shutter bug smiled with tobacco stained teeth. You kissed with pink and men fell in a row, but with the once purplish black, you kissed with love. “Aw, look at you now” out came the words from someone's black lips tarnished with bleach. When the wax strips made you cry, the same someone reminded you that pain, it's a side effect of beauty. You did oh so many things for That someone's validation. Soon, you forgot your true color You became plastic. You disappeared as you fitted Into the society. You became another,just another Pretty face There were so many after all… You forgot those imperfections Those; which once made you original Someone dragged you down Someone stripped you of confidence Someone pushed you into immortal insecurities. Someone wrote for you the ideals you should stick with. You who once used to be Her with no prefixes and suffixes, maybe sometimes garnished with smart, nice and talented Became Pretty eyes Pink lips “Did Cleopatra give you her nose too?” And so was already decided the words of your mourners. You are pretty But insecure Are you beautiful? That someone didn't give you the instructions for that. Flaunt your imperfections That will make you beautiful….
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Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 11:04 AM UTC
Perfect Imperfections
Someone once told you, “You can always fit into the ideal Some pins and needles and metals and creams shall do the work!” So you can flaunt your pretty face, “Get rid of that crooked teeth” “ Lemons shall bleach your lips” “Ha-ha, you have hair on your face” “Do this to tone your arms” “ Take this for fairer skin” “ Time for a nose job?” So what did you do? You smiled with your lips closed, For insecurities lingered there and shut them tight. “That's better” and so the shutter bug smiled with tobacco stained teeth. You kissed with pink and men fell in a row, but with the once purplish black, you kissed with love. “Aw, look at you now” out came the words from someone's black lips tarnished with bleach. When the wax strips made you cry, the same someone reminded you that pain, it's a side effect of beauty. You did oh so many things for That someone's validation. Soon, you forgot your true color You became plastic. You disappeared as you fitted Into the society. You became another,just another Pretty face There were so many after all… You forgot those imperfections Those; which once made you original Someone dragged you down Someone stripped you of confidence Someone pushed you into immortal insecurities. Someone wrote for you the ideals you should stick with. You who once used to be Her with no prefixes and suffixes, maybe sometimes garnished with smart, nice and talented Became Pretty eyes Pink lips “Did Cleopatra give you her nose too?” And so was already decided the words of your mourners. You are pretty But insecure Are you beautiful? That someone didn't give you the instructions for that. Flaunt your imperfections That will make you beautiful….
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For instance look the words "hello poetry" If we break down hello you get hells low or o hell no Poetry "poet" means a "collection of" "Ry" means "art of" So poem means a collection of art We have a job job in hebrew means "persecute" When we work a week (weak) We make our earning (urn) Which urn is ashes for the dead By the time the weekend comes we are weaken (weekend) We say good morning Mourning is what you do after someone has died And when you a-wake Up in the morning lol A wake is a party for the dead So you're literally saying "I'm mourning after someone has diedand I'm going to party " every day on the conscious superconscious and subconscious without awareness When you pray you become the prey N what precisely are you preying about A blessing which means "b"-" less " So When you say "bless" you you're saying "be less of you" Also noticed the word "it" It is associated with many definition or deaf phoenicians It is defined as a third person Such as Nike's SLOGAN "just do it" "Its up to you" "let me at it" "Its not that hard" "let it be" "it ain't nothing" just a few to name We are casting sp-ells without even knowing "it" Most folks go to the gospel or Godspell So if we break it down el is God God is an anagram for dog Also com-mon is a word used alot Com means together mon means one So common means together as one Uni also means one verse means truth So the meaning is "one truth" Think it ain't illegal yet crazy right Study the pre-fixes (before fixed) suffixes (suffer because of it) and root word origins or etymology (study of true sense and meaning) and you'll see how they tricked us ito witchcraft There's a reason they are "curse" words
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Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 9:31 AM UTC
Words "R" Sp-ells
For instance look the words "hello poetry" If we break down hello you get hells low or o hell no Poetry "poet" means a "collection of" "Ry" means "art of" So poem means a collection of art We have a job job in hebrew means "persecute" When we work a week (weak) We make our earning (urn) Which urn is ashes for the dead By the time the weekend comes we are weaken (weekend) We say good morning Mourning is what you do after someone has died And when you a-wake Up in the morning lol A wake is a party for the dead So you're literally saying "I'm mourning after someone has diedand I'm going to party " every day on the conscious superconscious and subconscious without awareness When you pray you become the prey N what precisely are you preying about A blessing which means "b"-" less " So When you say "bless" you you're saying "be less of you" Also noticed the word "it" It is associated with many definition or deaf phoenicians It is defined as a third person Such as Nike's SLOGAN "just do it" "Its up to you" "let me at it" "Its not that hard" "let it be" "it ain't nothing" just a few to name We are casting sp-ells without even knowing "it" Most folks go to the gospel or Godspell So if we break it down el is God God is an anagram for dog Also com-mon is a word used alot Com means together mon means one So common means together as one Uni also means one verse means truth So the meaning is "one truth" Think it ain't illegal yet crazy right Study the pre-fixes (before fixed) suffixes (suffer because of it) and root word origins or etymology (study of true sense and meaning) and you'll see how they tricked us ito witchcraft There's a reason they are "curse" words
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