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About This Poem
Girth Control
When you make your wife into a baby machine
You can’t complain there’s not enough food to eat
I mean, what were you thinking with ten kids to feed?
Food would fall from the sky? Rain eggs, bread, or meat?
You had to have known, say by three kids or four,
That you would eventually need MORE food than before
Don’t act like you’re stupid, it’s plain to see
That what you really wanted, was a sex machine
Damn the consequences, the babies that came
Who cares if they starve? Certainly you’re not to blame
10/17/11 - posted 4/4/12
Susan Burch
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