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Union of the Pot Boiler

Heather has a Bachelor's Degree in English from Moravian College and has been freelance writing for more than 13 years.

Time for a period of self-expression

One that Madonna might like or sing about

If she wanted to talk about someone ready to explode

Irritation always lurked beneath the surface

Encased in thick porous black rock as protection

From the blistering 150 degree smack down of heat

That dark spongy veneer no longer existed anymore

Withered away after too much natural wear and tear

Aged into a fine mess of an imperfect thunder storm

Transformed from a bubbling caldron of bloodlust

Ready to spill over the dark grey granite countertop

With the clear intent on scorching earth

Malicious pleasure at making others writhe

At the discontent created by the wicked magician

One with a desiccated old heart long since deceased

Time of death pronounced at 9:01 PM on Friday

Dried out in the black and white Sunbeam microwave

Received as a 30th birthday gift from the supposedly dearest

Wished they forked over extra cash for the gold Citizen watch

Saw it in the Macy's display case and never looked back

Didn't have to be the diamond encrusted one next to it

Final straw broken on the camel's back

Now they're paralyzed from the neck down

Unable to overlook anything ever said or did

Picked up every cross ever created

Locked, loaded and ready for the ultimate showdown

Tonight is the night where everything goes

Run while you still have the chance.

Here's where the magic or the mayhem happens.

Here's where the magic or the mayhem happens.

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