We Can't Let The Terrorists Win

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A pink plastic pearl,
wet and glistening.
"We need to protect our freedoms," he said,
with sickeningly sweet breath,
like a cloud of chloroform.
His thick tongue, wet with saliva,
pushed the red dye 47 behind his cheek,
like an animal.

He stopped chomping for a moment,
ending the squish, the smack.

"After all, this is America."





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