Wednesday, April 21, 2021

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-One, Poem Twenty-One

Just Herd

Forget band-aid blemish
showing one's place.

Only back big enough,
fit collective human hoof.

Treads double as brand,
pwn comes before cure,

accumulated shoe size
mark of the best,

only way they want
to figure right for life.

If sick all die now,
then world is cured!

Rave on own mass grave
before Sunday dig. 

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