Friday, July 10, 2020

The Great American Novel Coronavirus ~ Friday, July 10, 2020

That every writer in America 
has ambitions to write a great novel 
even one that wins The Pulitzer Prize... 

Given her situation, Erica 
realized with her background, she could tell 
everyone the story how to grovel 
á grúfu abjectly never to rise 
to stand and face your oppressor, the perp. 

America needed to know she fell 
many years ago in the woods, a man, 
every bit a gentleman while outside, 
raped her daily in his basement, the twerp 
imprisoned her for five years, she gave birth 
countless times to undernourished babies, 
abortions, miscarriages and preemies, 
no one knew what she suffered on this earth. 

No one until today, her publisher 
offered Erica an advance to plan, 
virtually, a synopsis, to ride 
each day and night with the devil, insure 
literally nothing is forgotten. 

Coronavirus hit in early March, 
only she was trapped down in the basement, 
relief came to rescue her and her son, 
of course, the man was in the hospital, 
no one knew about her but still he sent 
a healthcare worker to check up in search, 
vulgar fuck, of his á grúfu, the gall, 
in this instance as he lay safe in bed, 
respiratory illness killing him, 
under the circumstances, he faced grim 
sentencing had he survived, so she said. 

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