An Old Rag
I kept a little thing
In my bag
I have no skeleton
In my cupboard
An old rag
That keeps me bored
No matter how flourish
They say is your riches
Your little rag memories' inches
It makes the old snobbish
A sage memories is incomplete
Without the record of it
For how long will I keep
The pain's memories in steep
I stand for long as hope
For the unborn down the earth's slope
To cope with the tight and slack
Of life's welcome pack.
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