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"Last Thoughts on an Ill-Fated Fool"

The boy that was stressing, now stricken with strife,
A piece of his puzzle now fading away.
The source of his life was always his love.
She left him deserted in large clouds of dust.

He gave her his all, he gritted his teeth.
Those teeth she did smash as she swooshed her left fist.
Dropped like a dime from a ten-story building,
His soul fell to earth on Hermes’s soles.

Splattered to bits in bite-sized morsels,
The boy’s will was broken. Alas, he felt
Only one thing to do: he drifted off softly.
When the brash broad found him, the bullet was through.

© 1999
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