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By Jack Joseph Smith
Way ToThe End
I do not want to write a Modern poem
The collection of gold and oil
Helia Bend red and ricked welll
COMANCHIE
Unread on the sheet yet
White and blue as a saint
Didn't I think about anything else
when I lied abost the truth
Of course I did do the oppisite
And said everything right for you
and we are all about time
Yet you are the ones
who think age
makes changes