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Death of a Stapler
Your metal head has a mind of its own
When laptop chase rushes to meet deadline,
Pointed teeth decide to clump together
Jamming the bar with those sharp incisors;
My bones whacking the ledge, in high-scale of rage.
Braces still grip in clusters .... don’t have time
Loosening that clipped mouth, I must dare
Slam the base with a hammer without warning,
Yet you retaliate by cutting my neat thumb:
I'll wreck you in the hazardous bin, darn stapler!
It's time for hilarious poetries
Contest of Jamie Pan
Copyright ©
Nette Onclaud
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