I O.D.’D – MY C.O.D.
I’m dour and sour this vexing hour,
And I can’t fake “fine” no mo.’ But NO,
I won’t die from an OD of FOMO,
Though an OD will be the official COD
Of poor and dead Me,
Literally mortified from crying,
Drying, frying, and flying SOLO
So long and so low.
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