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Beavers and hogs are into some **** They see rats above, flying on wings. Pumpkin seeds are scratching their feet, They don’t know what the future brings Old rotten apples always cajole Fresh oranges with some trickery. Like papayas, they fall into a hole, Cooking a juice of pure misery. Ancient mushrooms fluoresce in blue, Deep in a forest under crescent sky. Pungent flowers of sulfur bloom, Bringing the coarsest monkeys to die. Suddenly, the old elks awake Oblivious to their common mistake.
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Jun 16, 2025
Jun 16, 2025 at 1:10 PM UTC
Old elks sonnet
Beavers and hogs are into some **** They see rats above, flying on wings. Pumpkin seeds are scratching their feet, They don’t know what the future brings Old rotten apples always cajole Fresh oranges with some trickery. Like papayas, they fall into a hole, Cooking a juice of pure misery. Ancient mushrooms fluoresce in blue, Deep in a forest under crescent sky. Pungent flowers of sulfur bloom, Bringing the coarsest monkeys to die. Suddenly, the old elks awake Oblivious to their common mistake.
FTScorza
Written by
42/M/Brazil
Jun 16, 2025
Jun 16, 2025 at 1:10 PM UTC
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