Fatherhood, Balance it Balance It

These eels

They sleeze their way up the ladder

Then shit in their pants

And send the smell through the fans

 

I am the fan

I hear it

I clean the dirt

And the scorching nature outside–

Limits me

 

No cadence for ruin

Just a but, to clean

Good ol’ bastards

Reliable–unreliable

No change

Just charges

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