It’s a June the first fix.

Flummoxed, failed and fixed,

Why is everyone being such dixs.

I know it’s rigged,

I know it’s big,

The true trust will be in sticks.


When pointing in your general direction,

It’ll write your fate without hesitation.

The stick will be thrown, grown and moan,

then used over and over,

sawing stone, seeding home.


The physical limitations,

the personal expectations,

the paranormal prevalence,

the prayers and pebbles,

as the whole gambit gambles.


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