“Your Mother is a Whore”

“Your mother is a whore” said the tennis ball

I found in the woods whilst hiking with my

three-legged pal who speaks fluent Dutch.

I spoke with anger in my cold southern drawl,

“She’s easy by choice!” and no reason why,

it’s not a big deal or some kind of crutch.

Believe me my friend I still can’t recall

the number of hours with that other guy

who once told me “she has the magic touch!”

Keep walking crooked I say now ya’ll

as I throw this monstrosity and say goodbye.

To the woods it returns, regret not so much.

-bb

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