He made up his mind.
Kind of resolution.
A little bit revolution.
No more of,"She was there."
This is the last Tuesday.
He's no longer the main option.
Not even an option, apparently.
No more gazing through the hole.
'Cause you're the brain then you're to blame.
Maybe his kicks won't be as sharp anymore.
But at least his brain won't splat anywhere.
He hopes she took a very good look at him.
Because that might be her last encounter.
He sure realized those didn't rhyme.
Well, maybe another time.
7 November 2017, 21.37.
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