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Surgeons At 11am
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Surgeons At 11am

Poem By Alexa Greenwood

Here come the butchers,
Doing their rounds,
Checking this and that.
Is there enough skin in the freezer?

I don't know how they do it?
Their minds must have been raped at an early age.
Have they no imagination,
These carvers of flesh.

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Comments (1)

yeah, they sort of walk around like robots trying to perfect the human condition.. interesting subject for a poem..well done