The Inevitable
Disjointed tendrils lay out in a clump
one attracts another
and another is junk.
Walking about pulls threads down the line
and in time
the junk gets all in a funk
It sees itself getting pulled toward a clump
But then something strange
Junk stands itself up off the page
He's amazed
He can see, now, how it's arranged
For the first time he can affect it's change
Smooth out the clumps
Reconfigure the bumps
But still
One attracts another
and another is junk
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