I simply write my stanzas They seldomly come out correct. No need to use some fancy LLM set. I set down my letters softly. The words often fade behind Never reaching creators eye to eye. Their structure gooder than I. I wonder why I try - All I have is wonder Lost from long ago - No trendy mechnical flow. And that is all they know - So I sit and wonder as Imagination in its woe. Picking pickeled peppers - Hoping the magic grows Planting their golden seeds In lands lost long ago.
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