Am I famous? No, not yet
It seems I must first die of fret
And then write down my worried mind
Then pass away before you find
Of course I’m not quite sure of this
Perhaps you’ll find before my bliss
Of being buried in the ground
Please find me in the lost and found
I lost my youth and innocence
I lost the way of making sense
Well, maybe not quite that far off
But even so, please do not scoff
What’s found, you ask, that’s so damned great?
The result of my only fate
To write until my finger’s numb
To show you how I’m not so dumb
In love with words on cheap ‘ol paper?
Yes, I say, I’m Poet Caper!
Zooming to then print my message
There it is – Another vestige
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