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Blue Collar Soup

Insults slice like cleavers
carving into goose bumped flesh.
Pieces fall in a soup du jour
served nightly at the mess.

Wounds treated with a smile,
tears steeped in laughter.
An auto-cannibalistic appetite
an emaciated character.

The stench assails the nostrils
pretend not to care.
Dreams and aspirations
evaporate in the chilly air.
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