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The Tyrant Unmasked

I think of you dead, buried in the ground
Enough.

Eternity at a glance,
A manageable load for once.

Your sick flatulent heart, insistent.
I wanted to say: “Make it tell the truth.”

You walked through that door
In yellow flip-flops
A Polaroid smile
All red eyes and scared teeth.

Charity is indicated, but
Faith is seasonal.