A swing

We men know an unbalanced thing

When a ladder isnt going to crash

And the kind of jumping rope

From which you swing

And we see it all the time

From around the age of five

Until the day we die

We know pie before its even pie

Because as men we were born to taste

Either one or all of all the baked things

I say this now because I see the swing

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Self unawares

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Endless burn