to keep his to my feet
But the room is warm
His brain is tallow
Good evening cello
master of mellow
He snarks without hearing
Too full to feel
So climbs the pressure,
The hatred
the greed
He roams just to feel
just to live
just to breathe
Pop.
It's lowly at first
unexpected,
he groans and curses the burst
But his flates flow till he falls flat
pouring out woe, he sputtered and spat
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