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Retribution
Smoked glass ravens peck a stinging bite,
Of teeth once white and sunken eyes.
The bell of age tolls harsh for you,
With his bitter touch and your filthy socks,
No loving words from her.
Stare until the boy pisses himself,
A show of laughter for friends.
Kill the unborn quick in an alley,
Pay the price of barrenness.
Not for love or fear but money.
No lesson learned or truth unturned
But stank vile air within your prison.
It’s almost time to face your weight
Dying alone and consumed by hate.
A poem for mother
S. A. Mogollon
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