Avhaari's Poo-etry collection by Avhaari | World Anvil Manuscripts | World Anvil

4. Crispy chicken

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The chicken was crispy; the sandwich; I slew.
 
The agent got welcomed, but in slumber; it brewed.
 
Concealed; placed explosives, in a delicate tube.
 
A flash; I'm awakened, detonations ensued.
 
My insides assaulted; I sprint; roll; I flew.
 
To battle this chicken, that with violence came through.

 

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