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Mephitic
What malodorous substance do you use,
to cover the lies you tell?
Do you not even notice now,
the way it gives off a smell?
It corrupts everything you touch,
it poisons the very air.
Wilts away all the new life,
til only the old is there.
Friends once caught in conversation,
can now only hear burnt words.
Only falsely spoken cries from
fallen dying birds.
I want so badly to believe again,
that the words you say are true,
in this apocalyptic wasteland, though,
the most distorted thing is you.
Copyright ©
Jeanette Woods
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