I know where she is, right?

            people running for the hills
       momma’s got a gun,
            a shawl to ward off chills

            call me crazy, it burdens you
       monsters on your shoulders
                   you mistook me for a shrew

   and when seveneightnine
            your skin is crawling
        the lights are sparking now
                    your ideals are so appalling 

A spite piece of poetry, based on some people who were taking an ARG far too seriously. Circa 2018.

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