inquisitive query
as I gaze deep at the sky
sometimes, I sit and wonder
why my consonants, slink by
and my vowels, roll like thunder
it's not the pitch of my voice
it barks baritone all day
I guess it must be, "their" choice
who gets to, come out and play
it may not sound that profound
guess I just, get excited
I'm just glad, this gift I found
sounds better, when recited
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