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Inspirational Poetry


Mistress Kang

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"Your words, my mind.


They slap against each other like waves of “What the fuck?”.


Your imagery is like a bus driving to space.


The passengers are bad ideas, pointlessness and self-congratulation.


Your words are unnecessarily long, dull daggers.


I don’t know what you learned in dagger school, but you treat your poetic license like a transgender Thai hooker, doing with it as you please.


You’re a diplomat- smuggling Krugerrands into the country.


Consider your poetic immunity revoked."


 


Thank you, Eugene Mirman.


 


 


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Am I the only person still searching for the end rhyme?

 

"Your words, my mind.

They slap against each other like waves of “What the fuck?”.

Your imagery is like a bus driving to space.

The passengers are bad ideas, pointlessness and self-congratulation.

Your words are unnecessarily long, dull daggers.

I don’t know what you learned in dagger school, but you treat your poetic license like a transgender Thai hooker, doing with it as you please.

You’re a diplomat- smuggling Krugerrands into the country.

Consider your poetic immunity revoked."

 

Thank you, Eugene Mirman.

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