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My Way Out

de Sprain

Here there’s not any plastic now
Past the slightest flick of my brother’s tongue
A snapshot of when the table melts
There’ll be nothing left to prop you up
To the detriment of all living things
It is my vast repertoire of general shortcomings
In the corner here where you hide your eyes
And your face is red
But no longer now
Do I pity you

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