What's there to do now?
The boxes fall apart
The walls have been covered
Yet there's not a Fucking noose to be found
Naturally in a quartet
Because any investment in poetry
Means effort that is fruitless
Please Fucking leave
Laying in multiple harmonies
Some in grunts and some in moans
Unsatisfactory and unfamiliar
Out of key, not a Fucking care
Poems about Fucking
How delicate
With no partner
All with the same hand
So in time
With all
The Fucking
Doubt
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