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To The End

A thing I’ve wanted for a while To say, though it may feel futile Is that I’m in a sticky wicket Neck high in the thick of it Set up with a task so large It could be hauled to sea in barge Buried deep in rhymes and verse A devilish deal, complete with curse Day in and out, I’m stuck right here You’d think I made it my career! Just little spree, impulsive lark But on my ass all day I’m parked To even try is so absurd Rhyming every goddamn word Tis my own goal that has no end Yet to this errand I will tend And hope that pity you bestow For I’ve no place else I can go When greatest ode drops I will know it Then ends the turmoil of this poet…

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