i hear new jobs can be scary. but i suppose it depends on the field

poetry

trifle lucky not quite ready
pardon every man stand steady
trigger pulling till its coming
pointing fingers prodding throwing
pick him up without a gab
place him face down in the cab
never any quite prepared
till they’re thrown in downright scared

baked and prodded
floating, lauded

time for someone else who dared

(in the end it was a matter of blood)

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