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T'is dopier to live in dystopia' (an ode to my sister)

My sister.
can't read. nor write.
but she knows not war.
my sister.
don't feed herself right.
yet she don't deal in war.
laughing at blackadder re-runs
recital of the every word
wearing tattered dressing gowns,
is she really that disturbed? ?

my sister. can't read. nor write
her pages scrumpled, ripped,
remain bright white, exempt of blood
my sister, unlike you,
fights off war.

she plays in peace, with adder's, black
dressing down, in her dressing gowns.

in utopia

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