and expensive china begins to fall,
can you feel your poor heart flutter
and mother nature almost call,
does the sweat become so cold
as the vase crashes to the ground,
but will you be so bold
to own up when it is found.
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| My Poetry | ||||||||||
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| Butterfingers | ||||||||||
| When your fingers are made of butter and expensive china begins to fall, can you feel your poor heart flutter and mother nature almost call, does the sweat become so cold as the vase crashes to the ground, but will you be so bold to own up when it is found. |
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