Swine
(This is a fictional poem)
You are nothing but a swine.
You stole a bottle of my best wine.
It cost me $5000 and you plan to drink it while you dine.
But you'll have to gum your food after I pound you with these fists of mine.
This time you've crossed the line.
I'm going to cut off your balls and tear out your spine.
Copyright © Randy Johnson | Year Posted 2006
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