To the slave
Who walked
Two thousand
Eight hundred
Eighty moons
Salty
A sigh
To the King
Whose lips
Rubbed Jezebels'
Breasts
For beheading thee
Was not the
Worst part
A loud laugh
At the female
Who tries but hard
To copy cat
Masculine trait
For you but
Lay eggs
A smile
At Hitler
Some women
Are worse
They will kill the Jew
Burn their own children
To ashes
And wear a smile
While killing thy ghost
A flag white
To all men
In the war
Against
C roaching holes
Beware
For they but talk
A pause
For moons yet to come
Salty and sweet
Soft and hard
Life's face
Is clear now
The time next
I will remember
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