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25 Sep 2014 Edition
Reflecting on this camping trip
Certain things make me flip.
My mind, my view, my purview
How many of them are certain to
See the pain reflecting back
As all these blocks arrange and stack
Fuck if I know the proper path
As the clouds crack open to form a bath
Of dripping laughter, huddled tones
Muddled beats and muddied homes
Tomes we form to memorize
And empathize.
Kick back the truth, kick back my heart
I was only trying to help;
Victims do not suit me well.
So once the wetness began to start
And I cried my barbaric yawp;
Then floated into a quiet hell.
Woops.

She was such a bitch!

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