40 Degrees North of the Egg
I tolerate everyone
Never classed myself human
The box thinks outside me
Wishing the whole worlds legs would fall off
Loser true and proud
Turning your spit to pickled stars
Words link arms in protest at my use
Dont try
40 degrees north of the egg
I threw that line before you
and now i will explain
My breathed out final words
My lasting epitaph
Force on them a laugh
And leave me in the past
Copyright © Christopher Quigley | Year Posted 2018
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