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I wrote this as a poem test. I was looking for inspiration. I looked at the bookshelf, and just started a weird rhyme.
If I was a book,
I’d sit on a shelf until someone has a look,
The reader stretches my spine,
This is what I’m designed for,
Until someone throws me on the floor,
Or uses me to prop open the door,
Hey it’s chilly outside, Can’t wait to get back on the self,
At least it is warm.
If I was a book,
I’d sit on a shelf until someone has a look,
The reader stretches my spine,
This is what I’m designed for,
Until someone throws me on the floor,
Or uses me to prop open the door,
Hey it’s chilly outside, Can’t wait to get back on the self,
At least it is warm.
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