much obliged (an almost slam poem)

inside of me i have been told there is so much to make much of 

but in so much as i can never think of much to say-

like

thank you so much!

that means so much 

you look so much like your mum!

don’t eat so much. 

don’t think so much

i love you, like, so much-

it’s only so much of a muchness anyway

talking much ado about nothing- 

when however much i try 

i can’t say as much as i want.

much as that hunger in my stomach claws at my throat, much like it burns to open up and let so much come spilling out-

wow, don’t make so much out of nothing!”

i know that i would much enjoy to be

much less

or rather, to tell much younger much smaller much brighter but in much the same way so very much me

that being pretty 

pretty much only leaves much to be desired

so much for that! but they say that

too much of a good thing will kill you anyway 

so why want for much more?

(is this a bit much?)

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