Poem: The Right Grapes

Feeling like a spoiled shot of Jack
that needs to be drunk down.
I need someone to taste me,
get drunk off me.
I want to be their wine,
and be smelled.
Put up to the light,
looked at thoroughly,
and be told I have quality–
that I’m of the right grapes
as they taste how many times
I’ve been stepped on.

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