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Dear Nobody

I write to you for I am alone
And you are my last resort
My time I wrote on a stone
Of the moldy and broken sort
 
I lost the hammer I used
And I looked in the wrong place
The pick and the rock were amused
To myself I am just a disgrace
 
I found half of it in my hand
And the other one in the trash
As I grabbed it I could not stand
And the bottom of the can I would bash
 
I end my letter reminded
That you cannot respond
This letter makes me winded
So meet me at the pond

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