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Grandma

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Ha, I could say
Warm cookies
Sweaters knitted with love
Turtle dove
And laced up gloves
But that would be a lie
All of the above
Is a mask
To hide what is really boiling in the flask
As a child I adored you
Got down on the floor for you
Sit down on the shore with you
Shop at the wondrous stores with you
But then one day
It hit me
Like some cliché
You are deceitful
And most defiantly not full
Of compassion
You are selfish
With a heart dark and ashen
All alone you are
Pushed every one afar
Most that know you
Will admit that it is hard to like you
Avoid eye contact as they bike past you
Make stereotypical conversation
About the weather with you
I cannot say that I do not love you
For you are my blood
No matter how much I shove
We will always be tied together
Like fibers of a rubber glove
I’ll put up with your gray barley stew
And turn a blind eye to your hypocritical taboo
As for much more
Let us keep the score
Quite even
Let not things get deep
But allow the depths of you shallowness
Exceed us all





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