• POETRY - 7
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  • I eat my honey, I’ve done it all my life. It makes the peas taste funny, But it keeps them on my knife.
    a - b - a - b
  • In the morning the city Spreads its wings Making a song In stone that sings.
    a - b - c - b
  • The ageless volcano opens its wound.
    The old volcano erupts
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