This is War

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Bite your tongue,

Your words surely stung;

Burned as they left your throat,

Reaching an even lower note.

 

Wash your mouth,

And cross your fingers.

Hope that things won’t go entirely south.

As your words have clearly lingered.

 

Ask for forgiveness,

Say that they slipped out.

Make it believable beyond any doubt.

Lest they be left rather suspicious.

 

Because your words contained shards of glass.

Hidden by size,

As part of your disguise.

You think you’ve got the brass,

But you’ll regret it in the end.

Just wait until they suspend,

Creating problems much bigger than you could have wished for.

Problems that can only be fought through war.

 

 

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