...In the dead of night it comes to play
How I refrain its' avid glean
My preference I wish to lay
on faded thoughts and mildewed means
Sudden Brush and harsh air
my cerebellum dances in despair
what ill-fated thoughts I must bear
or ignore my conscience's grand scheme
Pounding hearts be aware
topsy turvy yellow bellies need not apply
the split-infinitive in its cowardice appeases the notion
my longfellow Wordsworth shall not lie
It is in the dead of night where cowards live and heros lie.
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