Contradiction
I saw a man about to write a poem:
He trod ruthlessly down a subway car,
Leaving behind him, left and right,
Macerated corns
And anguished faces.
Twenty minutes later
He wrote a lyric
Of exquisite tenderness.
He trod ruthlessly down a subway car,
Leaving behind him, left and right,
Macerated corns
And anguished faces.
Twenty minutes later
He wrote a lyric
Of exquisite tenderness.
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