Fuel (an acrostic poem)

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Fiddling with her coffee mug, she looked out the window with dead eyes

Ugly vibes hung in the air on words that shouldn’t have been said

Everyone, even him, had to understand life’s fundamental truth

Leave her alone until she tanked up on at least one mug full

Trial (an acrostic poem)

The fact the jury was hung was not lost on Clyde

Really his defense had done a number on the prosecution’s case

It made even him doubt he had done it

All he needed now were those dupes in the other room to finish the deal

Last thing he saw coming was that guilty verdict

 

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