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Quite the poet
I have become quite the poet
Wouldn't you know it
I have made a bit of racket
With words that spill out of my jacket
Like an old sugar packet
Rhyming is my thing
but words I can not sing
The words I do say
just seem to pay
If only I were so gay
Rhymes forming in my head
As I go off to bed
Words coming faster then I can write
now is my plight
pen and paper in hand is almost to much to stand
I'm just looking for a fan
with all that I have ran
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