There's Another "F-Word"
Fitted firmly on tongues
The Other F-Word
Casually dropping
Like feet from chairs
Festering wounds
Rattling in empty heart chambers
I would find those tongues
Around them, my fingers fixed,
Unflinchingly evulse
The hurt, the shame
Fetter the joke, finish the game
From those tongues
Cease befoulment of folk
For who they are
Expunge that word
So fear of the self
Can be forgotten
And love, learned
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