It's not just my least favorite month
It was one of my worst enemies
Lanky and slight yet exceptionally fast
acne prone and desperate
The eyes were too close to the nose
And the tongue sharper than a slaughterhouse blade
He could burn a hole in your head with the glare
A lean mass of pure rigid boney wrath
Nicholas may or may not
addicted to his cricket world
I never fathomed his hateful ways
Until I heard his father cuss him out one day
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