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One moment they were there and we were having funNow they've disappeared, every single one.I don't know where to go and I'm feeling rather scared
All you see is outside me: my painted smile,the rosy-posy shell, the fluttery eyes.A butter-won’t-melt-in-my-mouth-type me
What do we do with a difference?Do we stand and discuss its oddityor do we ignore it?
Do we shut our eyes to itor poke it with a stick?Do we clobber it to death?