Temper

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Photo: Guayasamin mural}

No. No. No.

You say it with an evil tounge,

flying high on an adrlene rush.

Holes are in the walls

and the tv’s eating a shoe.

No. No. No.

Life compressed with stress,

pumping through my veins.

As the high slips, breathing regains,

looking around I see only me.

My beast no longer in control,

I stand alone cleaning your mess.

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