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Friday, 9 September 2011


We use our freedom to fuss over nothing,
to grumble, whine, bellyache and groan,
to bleat, mumble, accuse and moan.

We hear stories from abroad and cringe,
sense the excruciating pain yet whinge
at the checkout queue.

We are victims of sorts within life's walls
but, anytime, the man with electrodes on his balls
will swap places with you.

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