What would have grown.


A transparent chance is never caught,

Worn through the brogues that saught 

The very much fiduciary thought,

Oh claim the exponential words 

Factional in the coming herds,

To qualify the claim to wonder

And draft our petrified wander,

Can we claim to gander?

There to the coils of the porpoise,

Refused for the wisdom chose 

Not to purpose.

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