DEAR SIR

The forests will bleed

With the Labour Day stench

Of houses built heavy

Some one must pay rent.

The man who demands

That the land shall be wiped

Is the same goddamn fellow

Whose hands should be tied.

A large block of cinder

Attached round his waste

It’s time for you to leave

This world with the haste

In which you came.

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7 thoughts on “DEAR SIR

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