you may grow up
with a father who
beats
right and wrong
into
your brain
you may think
you understand
the paths you deter upon
the paths unwind you
grind into your feet
but no one will tell you
that you are a whore
lusting on the people
the men and women
who feed all the same
the bottom of the stack
near
what are we
looking for
too far down
to see the light
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