Glenn McCrary
Bradypodion pumilum
For each morning that spawns
I evade your virulent dialect
Each syllable born of your orifice
Is embellished by grisly tones
As helpless I am forsaken
To canker in ire
To awake is to honor the culture of the universe
Though your miserly revelry ceases to deliver amity
Whilst your exploits wither into oblivion
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