North Korea

My Caramello smile,
It hurts for me to wear;
Drown out the plasma center
With phone calls,

And treat the
Nuclear Holocaust days
As a spiritual retreat;

Binding the medical doctors
To the oaths we take when
Night has fallen,
And the graves dispense
Of all their bones and flesh.

Speaking misogynistic pluralities,
While the melons mold,
And the old folks homes
Are gassed in silence,
Awaiting orders to pass the torch.

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