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I’m a piece of shit stepped in another’s soul and my soul is scraped
with discard and disgust when they’re done with me.
I’m only a pile of shit that feeds upon the world’s leftovers.
I’m only a pile of shit steeped in shit and always hope they’ll bring me home
at day’s end to their doorstep and wipe their feet shan’t spoil their home
with my soil.
Where shit dies save for the flies and the buzzword sings in a fly strip
and their shoes are left outside their door for garbage.
Waiter, there’s a fly in my soup, thank you, I always wanted a pet fly.
Daniel William Concharty