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The Box

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They call it your box because that’s what it is

Everything you are handed to you in a pink box

Draped in all that frilly stuff

That just can’t get muddy

And don’t you dare scrape up those knees!

That’s how you lose your wings!

The End
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THE GOODS

bluejay You're currently reading the poem The Box, which was posted on Oct 25, 2009 by bluejay.

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