48

48 dead soldiers
48 cocksuckers
Lined up in rows on the counter top
and on the windowsill

Each a reminder of some
fucking crazed hope
That “this one”
would lead
to a better time

48 dead soldiers

You can say “fuck you” to the World all your life,
but one day the World
will say “fuck you” back.

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Filed under outlaw poetry, poetry

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