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The Puzzle Of Change.Little puzzle pieces, On the floor In disarray, We try to fit Together, In a new And different way. We place them Close together, Matching colour, Shape and size, And when, we're Finally finished, We stand And smile With pride. This game,we keep On playing, Though the pieces Are the same. This never ending, Pointless game, I fear is driving Me insane! Joy Weare. 9th July, 2004. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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