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I am the word juggler.I juggle the wordslike swords.I slice sensewith poetic license.
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
It is midnight in the ice rinkAnd all is cool and still.Darkness seems to hold its breathNothing moves, until
We finished with a song on the football pitchSinging all along on the football pitch Had a little sing with a sing-song-singHad a little fling with a ding-dong-ding