She penned the lines and flashed her tits played the games like a well trained brainless slut bucket often does.
The old losers gave likes and the limp dicks all agreed she was hot.
Empty in thought dead inside.
We all dreamed of nothing and waited to die.
And feasted upon her soul spread like her legs upon the table.
It tasted salty with a tinge of cotton candy and self absorbed shit.
She pukes poetry like the brain dead often do.
Fuck death cause the living seldom truly are.
About Zechariah Savage:
Anarchist poet and truth speaker at any cost death is not to be feared the fake bullshit of society is.
Abandon all hope!!!!
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