Maggots in my womb
cry out like a suicidal rockstar
on a stage; being for the masses.
These worms I eat make me weep
of memories past and memories future.
These bugs I swallow make me laugh
of bruises past and bruises coming.
Spin the wheel of fortune
and swing along with dismay.
Spin around a thousand times
and vomit for those ill and those dying.
Swing back and forth a hundered times
and jump off in time for your legs to be sawed off by the spinning wheel.
Lucky unlucky.
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