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Let's keep the poems coming... coming...
*Breaded*
If I could have I would have breaded
her innocence,
Gotten all sticky in her yolk,
her runny sometimes bloody
yolk,
Wrapped her in eggwash
and breadcrumbs,
Baked at 350 for 40,
Watched her slip off the bone.
Would've Could've Can't Won't.
So now she's got raw chicken lips
puckered like sashimi side
And I'm battering
a million wives
Just to thicken the sauce.
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