This Poem

This poem is constructed of objects that you would find in your average middle-class kitchen.
This poem contains enough space to get by.
This poem makes you uncomfortable.
This poem cannot begin until you sit down.
This poem refuses to be referred to as a poem.
This poem would like to be referred to as Earl.
This poem is accepting applications.
This poem does not pay a living wage.
This poem knows the wages of living.
This poem is worried about the economy.
This poem wants peace, but loves esplosions.
This poem wants to move in with you.
This poem is eager to meet your parents.
This poem is full of meatloaf.
This poem has rendered itself useless.
This poem is a double amputee.
This poem is heavily invested in the markets.
This poem gives in to its violent urges.
This poem is nervous about its appearance.
This poem cannot be trusted with polite company.
This poem was once a sestina.
This poem has a beef with the government.
This poem is going underground.
This poem hates the revolution.
This poem is constructed of objects that you would find in your average middle-class kitchen.

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