Junk Food


There are hands across the aisle

Just make their other hand doesn’t

Hand a knife

There are smiles when they speak

Just don’t turn away

it’s those words you

Don’t hear that

Are those hands of knives

Stuffing your face of food

There is less chance for regrets

Or put your foot

In one’s mouth

Just because your in a room

With people you think

You know doesn’t mean

You aren’t alone

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