Terrorist Explosion, Her Arm Is All That's Left
J
James McLain
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Her arm it’s made of wood; a teak or oak perhaps?
Brown too light for mahogany,
thoughts are one could always stain it to achieve.
The cedar pink desired effect of timbre.
One last good scrubbing
and a fresh layer of skin is what she never needed.
Her killer blinks out loud I turn away before it's said,
and it’d do nicely as a table leg.
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