oft and on, i've slipped through cracks of hapless rationale
with fingers crossed behind my tail,
an awful sorry glance thrown over my left shoulder
into the face of a salty Satan, as she mutters
an Oath to self, a prayer thrown t'wards the sky for
my Health might fail, and my soul should Die;
or at least I'd think that's what she'd be, as I skip
off so could I might see
some place where I might could might should might would might chance to hide.
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