Confessions of a Typo
Never possible to be perfect
To be perfectly honest
In fact, one might look to me
To see the epitome of
A bruised dream—
A word almost beautiful
If it had been written slowly, meticulously
Often, words on the run
Will run into trouble,
Whilst staying busy, so
Please forgive the glitch I can be:
Such a type o, oblivious me
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ZACDAQ 