Can't Be A Series, Maybe

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Blackjack

Smelling of sex and sweet sixteen,
My old friend, where have you been?
You had no time to be a child
And too much sense to grow up wild.
The world is fevered and confused.
Softer things are still refused
In your left brain and strong right arm.
Remember, sweet, you do no harm
When you tell the purest truth.
Lies need not burden your youth.
Say sorry for your baddest day --
Twenty-one is far away.
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