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Yearbook

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Worried bout my face
Worried bout my hair
Wondering what they'll think in ten years
When they point at my pic and say, "There!"
Jittery butterflies won't flutter by
They stay and provoke me still
Like a torturous form of a killer heartworm
Crawling inside till I'm filled.
The line gets shorter and I get closer
Lights get brighter, as well.
Man points at his teeth, kids are striken with grief.
We got the photographer from hell.



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