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here's a poem i'm working on.
It's called DVMksVMkevmikewvmEWIKVMirewvmi3wmc32FM@$#kmv2m32kvm
DVMksVMkevmikewvmEWIKVMirewvmi3wmc32FM@$#kmv2m32kvm
VMNEIWF#Nfn2k3evmke2vcm2KEVMciamevilIVMIDVMKWEMFk#@MFKEMV@KMVE
#K%RMk213mFKMmkdsvmkfuckgodOVM@OIK#MKGF$#@MIVJIR@VMRKBMR#@KVM#
WKDFVMKE@VMKDVMkwvmkwhoshalldieMKEWVMK$#MK@M$FVK$@MKLVM$KLV$#@
sijvi3jf2$MFKF#MK@#F$M#OIFM@KFM#KFMIK#@FM@Iibelieveitsyou@MKEV
VKMDSKVMKDSVMKNKE@NFK#JOIVJ$OIVJ@IJVO@#JOFJ#($GFJ(@FM($#@FM($#
#OIFM@OIEMFEcmie2mk2mchappiness(#@3fmk32vm3kfmisOIMDISVMDviVMK
KEJTIKWJNGFIEVNWIKEvnkdvnthekeyVJDMIVKWMDIKVDMKVMDWKVdsmKVSMLK
MVDKVMSKVMDkvmkdvmkdvmm3ifm32you"CDMKSVdcreateJDISVMDyourDMSVO
EVIMWVIEMVIWownRVMIWEVMiewvmiewrvmiwrealityDMIKSVMVIDMVWKDVMLW
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The father made fetuses with flesh licking ladies / While you and your mother were asleep in the trailer park / Thunderous sparks from the dark of the stadiums / The music and medicine you needed for comforting / So make all your fat, fleshy fingers fingers to moving / And pluck all your silly strings and / Bend all your notes for me and / Soft silly music is meaningful, magical / The movements were beautiful / All in your ovaries / All of them milking with green fleshy flowers / While powerful pistons were sugary sweet machines, / Smelling of semen all under the garden / Was all you were needing when you still believed in me.
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