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My first Poem
Quarterly squandering of the lemon’s flesh
Like a bar of ice cream on a furious winter’s eve.
Soda Pop freshly
Forever sweetly
Freaking on a hyena’s backside,
Like a forward chocolate bar, outside
The running car furry, like bread in Tipp City,
Wrenching homes,
Sorrow combs of lime green tint,
Sort of like a farmer’s hint.
Snowflakes running
Down the summer bummer.
Why won’t you stop,
Little lollipop?
