Fleet Mouthed - Gord - Aspoet
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Gord

2020-11-25 04:33 am
To hurt him, like ordinance, 
Without pair, like oranges,
I know the judge, stole from her,
And I showed the world,
Like porcelain, life and purpose.
Too curt of whim, by your judgement,
Like my origins, like ordinance,
I simply shoot from the hip.

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