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NO MORE SAMPLES


No more staples,
Papers flying about,
No one to hold her,
She fluttered about.
No rock to hold,
She drifted like a river.
No medicine to cure her,
She was slowly dying.
-
She smiled to herself,
As she went through the verse,
Making something out of nothing,
Like she always did. 

-
No more staples,
Papers flying about,
She picked them up,
Humming to herself.. 

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