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It
May 19, 2019
He struts past me
And gives me an Arctic stare
Only thinking of the black and white
The only grey zone
Is his hair
He cackles with his fellow kings
Glaring in my direction
And he sees a leper
A dirt-smattered peasant
Dragging himself down the muddy road
The only thing he gives
Is the spit from his drooling mouth
As he stalks away
I only remember a maggot
Fit to be crushed by a shoe.
© Anonymous
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