This is just another poem by that guy you know,
Who gives rhyme to his thoughts then puts them on show,
And if you've read this far, chances are you'll go,
All the way to the end as you've probably done before.
But here's the thing that you really ought to know,
With only a few lines left, there's precious little to show,
Of the thought and the time he's put into this rhyme,
Of the stolen moments he took to refine,
And the recesses of his mind he chose to trawl,
To essentially write a poem about nothing at all.
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