puppets walk a thousand leagues
and only travel inches
they chance to go to sea in sieves
and find they're et' by fishes
paper flies in finite circles
making days to pass the time
mice stand tall in fields of purple
whispering the endless rhyme
milk will spew as scarves unravel
hair will tumble, eyes will cross
and yet, so far the victims travel
to find they'll never cut their loss
Cynical Girl Community Member 
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