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Life Plan

My brain rots, a steady rot.
Phenylalanine helps a lot.

My heart works harder to expire,
Each day it chokes a little fire.

Pursuant to my life mandate
I overexert my jolly hate.

Tire, I will of undue hate
Unwittingly adjusting my mandate.

Transfer my hope... Boss please fire
My ass, go saggy, smells expire.

Accept my geriatric lot -
Cremation please, forego the rot.

- Simon Huggins, 12th April 2002