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A silly poem with mischievous undertones. (Try to find Harry Potter in my poem if you can) |
| "How could immortal hand or eye A paper tiger turn awry? Remaking it to one of wood, Remarkable if understood, Yet by some strange means colored... Pink!" "Oh joy their is in fun mischiefing The misfit knows he's disbelieving There's still no harm in dreaming though" Expressed above: my manifesto. Recite it like a mantra! |