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On days like this, I’m full of life.

Stuffed sick, can’t take another bite.

A bipolar poetic plight.

Starved, I devour all delight.

Hungrily consuming on sight.

Reached my limit, I grow contrite.

Never truly felt quite alright,

Queasy on my passion’s excite.

Sluggish and sleepy, no more might.

Too weak to continue- good night…

 

 

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