You betrayed all the trust I gave you
Now I need therapy to hate a little more
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Dead rat
A can of Pabst
I hope you have a heart attack
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I feel you in the Spring
In the familiar drip of thaw
In the caw of a single crow
Not in the coming warmth
Or the fresh air and new life
But in reminder of the forgotten seasons of a dead year
Buried, and rotten
Revealing their partial corpses
And unwanted memories.
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