Quenching the Fire
From opposite heads I hear crackles
you call me larry, even though I am Hilary
with my presence, lots of hate sprinkle
both minds convert to a dirty granary
forgetting that every problem can be tackled
to hatred, silence is an auxiliary
friendship suffering a swollen knuckle
but all these should soon pass a refinery
forgiveness cures the broken ankle
and makes life less complicated and ordinary
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