Poetry: You don't fit
Why are you here, oh mortal
With your words so constantly flowing
And your thought so filled with knowing
Of things you know nothing about.
Always busy pleading,
But never really needing
To know what's here about
You pray for this
And you pray for that
Always knowing where it's at
Yet when I remind you in your thought,
You shout and tell me what you bought
At some shop with all its glitter
Making sure that you're no fitter
In the plan of times so bitter.
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