Main Course – A Poem

So they show me all about the end of days,

And the teeth, gnarled enough by decay to

make a dentist swoon and puke,

Chomping on anything that moves or

stops moving from the debris

scattered like a giant’s toys in the

playground after a temper tantrum

leaves the children crying for their mothers

m….braa…iiii….nnnn…..ssss

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