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The words to a perfect poem

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It consumes me

The tedious typing

And the sound of Tappity-Tap Tap.

It holds me

The words like webs

And the elegance of the rhythm.

It devours me,

The envious work of another,

How their brain can interpret and emit such beauty.

It will kill me one day,

And live within my final breathe,

But to no avail will it escape my lips, it being the perfect poem.

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solid.

el socialisto
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