Cowering through the shadows thicket,
I climbed into a plastic parade,
Struggling against the smooth fields,
Slipping off the roofs of machines.
When I spoke her name
Near the sun-lit gate,
A pompous manikin heard the call,
On a list she saw my number
And geared the game so I would fall.
She uttered my demise
Yet I know she is not to blame;
For it was the holiday season
And I was the winter's ancient shame.
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