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From a tender age I knew will be nuclear:
While my peers sang to the dilemma of Kelly and Nelly,
I slept with Chris de burgh dreaming of no border lines.
The lady in red was my finest
And fetal hesitation was not my thing.
Then, I was 13 with a Mandela line,
Drawn through my head near a star.
The first lady wasn’t in red,
But saw red when I burst her. 
Then, they called me the sergeant.
I popped five more before I dropped my teens.
Upgrading to two Mandela lines and stars on either side of my head.
Jenny, ivy, Lilly, Cindy, Julie, Emily and all the others,
In a confederation of the broken hearted,
In a unanimous vote of no confidence,
Declared me a persona non grata.
“But he was a handsome devil, that one” they cried
And he never missed a shot.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

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