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Poem about my son
His fate was born shortly after his birth,
When I sucked his cock for all I was worth.
I placed his cock where it didn’t belong
way before the time he knew it was wrong.
Later, in puberty, knowing it was wrong,
made my happiness that much more strong.
He trusted Mum wanting to take him away
to that place inside me both night and day.
He went through puberty loving the night,
When I kissed his balls and held them tight.
Each night of love, sucking and fucking me.
Each night of incest, spunking off inside me.
A poem about somebody's son. You can just imagine the heartache this mother would feel if she were alive ....
There is a rich old man named Trump.
When young, his daughter he'd hump.
One night after fucking her ass, he thought of some legislation to pass and made it his strive, to the White House he'd arrive and fuck a nation instead of his wife.
Lucky son
Trump dressed as the Pope, what a sight,
It was cheesy, it just wasn’t right.
A stunt for the press,
But it’s pure foolishness—
Like he’s lost all sense of the light!