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A work in progress
sometimes forward, sometimes back
And then there are those times
I try desparately to not move at all
That never works
I keep trying though.
My own worst enemy, raging, pointing, mocking
The world may be my oyster but for one
I hate oysters
My biting sarcasm wonders why anyone would
want the world to be an oyster?
The writer in me reminds my sarcasm that
I digress and to get
back to the point.
Oh, gentle reader, you should know
I rarely get to the point