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    I wonder where it all went wrong.

Free verse.

As soon as you can call any goddamn wordvomit a poem, the only arbiters of taste will be those sheep-dipped into an inward-looking culture of exclusion.

    I have eaten

    the plums

    that were in

    the icebox

    and which

    you were probably

    saving

    for breakfast

    Forgive me

    they were delicious

    so sweet

    and so cold

I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox, and which you were probably saving for breakfast. Forgive me, they were delicious - so sweet and so cold.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK