What makes you think that you are special in any way, shape, or form?
Please tell me dear child, for I'd like to know.
What runs through your mind on a late summer night?
When your bed sheets are tangled in your legs
And you're sweating so much
That you lick your lips in frustration
And stick your head so far in the freezer
That the tips of your hair turn into frost
And you close your eyes and wish with every ounce of pixie dust you posess from your head to your toes
That your head is not in a freezer
But rather a gas oven
So that you're cooked to absolute perfection
Too bad the summer heat opts out this wonderful tactic.
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