Corn Collab I call this poem, Maze.
Corn.
We slurp corn,
we have heaps of corn,
No more porn,
All we need is corn.
Makes the people reap corn.
We make corn related products.
Astonishing, I must say, but at the end of the day?
Open the cob, finish the job, Bob the cob, Kebab.
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riot100233 responds:
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I wish I could be a true artist, but never will be.
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