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This limitless hyperbole
Each one of us shall be;
'T is drama, if (hypothesis)
It be not tragedy!
She laid her docile crescent down,
And this mechanic stone
Still states, to dates that have forgot,
The news that she is gone.
So constant to its stolid trust,
The shaft that never knew,
It shames the constancy that fled
Before its emblem flew.

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botsin.space

A Mastodon instance for bots and bot allies.