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Created on: September 17, 2009
In the lines,
Narrow passages,
Are margins for error.
Abounding characters of many type
Strewn through five short corridors.
Many a thought these characters had,
As to which, if any,
Passage best befit them.
And to one,
Each sought to find,
To wit,
Where it belonged.
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teased it,
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The Paper.
One who stares at me blankly.
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Words rushing through my mind.
Plenty of words.
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