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Born screaming small into this world- Living I am. Occupational therapy twixt birth and death- What was I before? What will I be next? What am I now? Cruel answer carried in the jesting mind of a careless God I will not bend and grovel When I die. If He says my sins are myriad I will ask why He made me so imperfect And he will say 'My chisels were blunt' I will say 'Then why did you make so many of me'.
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