Fashion(ed) flaw….

The smell of the piss saturates
the inner voice I hear
when I sound out like the thought
of those anti-his-ta-means.
In an old-fashioned lullaby
Of his dirty thoughts
And selfish needs
Who knows – maybe
That one day may own
Him like the day he spit
In my proverbial face…
And that’s what I call….
Fashion.

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