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The truth about charles chaim wax (one more)
is that we love ourselves
more than we love charles
so we want him to come tell us
how bad we are
and make us feel
how good we are
and where's he by the way?
Like children lost at a village fair
we keep searching and finally
with out warning we chance upon
each other and shout
and scream and scratch
for giving such a scare.
poem
by
Prathibha Nandakumar
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