Guest Article by Katrina Finley
I sit in my car,
In front of my school,
Which looks like a place,
Where gangs fight duels.
This is my first visit,
And I shalln't linger long,
Least I get an infection,
From a much used bong.
It's shocking really,
To gaze at this place,
No doubt I'll need,
To be armed with mace.
Surely it's charming,
Should I but really look,
The warehouse facade,
I merely mistook...
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