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Both day and night he bore the sight

Of a wife trapped in her bed;

He'd never tell her rancid smell

Upon his stomach fed.

He never heard each spiteful word

She never meant him hurt;

He loathed to touch her skin too much

The excrement and dirt.

The bitter taste of life laid waste

Was acrid on her breath;

Yet still alive his senses five

Invoked his sense of death.

Copyright David Pamment20/7/18