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She looks at me 

With spite in her eyes. The She-Devil.

She's prim and trim, 

Straight-laced wine tasting like water.

Arrogance, a fiery engine red 

She paints on her nails as embellishment.

Her looks are scorn 

As she watches me across her pariah parley.

She calls herself a queen. 

Little does she know she's flanked by Brutuses left and right. 

She snakes an arm around her man, 

Scared I'll steal him. I look into my margarita and smile. 

The chick-en.

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