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Herbert Uba
Muscles on genetics;
Smile, on arbitrary symmetry.
His love, put on God,
But insanity is on him.

Sad much!

Muscles told sad tales
Of hope and diligence;
An obese wife on his shoulders
Like giant dumbbells.

He loved her to her bone.

A smile that seemed effortless
Was prompted by mysteries:
Two little lights remaining
In a heart the world had darkened.

They were all that mattered.

His love was a birthchild of intellect;
That and conscious stupidity.
He’d give it to the least deserving;
He argued they were the most in need.

Honorable much!

Too noble for this world;
A world that punishes goodness.
We drove him insane;
The only thing we ever put on him.

Let’s repent or kill ourselves!

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