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April 29th, 2018 Leave a comment Go to comments

Why aren’t mine good enough for you
Hers are infectious like the flu
You stare at those gams
Like they’re Christmas hams
Yet I’ve nothing on which you’d chew

So each day I stand here ignored
Sculpted but stiff as a board
Fine we interact
Have routine contact
Nothing that merits an award

But after sharing all those eggs
I’d say my consistency begs
This kitchen table
Willing and able
Just wants you to admire my legs

Categories: satan
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