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O! like polyten bag in a cyclone
I have no control of my rhyming

Like a jetisoned load amidst the sea
I have no control of my rhyming

Timing of my rhyming is not a lime
Nor sweet five alive i sip at will

Willingly unwillingly the cart of rhyming
Carries my inspirations to sweet landings

When i write, i write with no rhyming intent
Only to find rhymings forming within

My sweet poeming like molts
On an abandoned bread

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