-01.11.2023-
To my surprise and foreknowledge,
The she figure postdates her
End and fend and tend to send.
Yet no flour filled my field
With savory, serenely.
It tone dull; I tell my doll
Head, I’m tons of votes, but fold,
Loving she story while loathe
The plots for years of yore,
Embedded in every gaze
Throughout my growth to be sold.
Those plots acquaint with me I know so.
They don’t so, she said so.
So goes and ghosts
See how they mold.
For I don’t know, don’t know I know so.
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