by AUSTIN
I have a favorite cup, I love that cup.
This cup is old, very, very old.
Within it consists a crack, a very small one
to the eye a small one, to me a story.
Maybe there’s cracks in the cracks
Maybe even cracks within those cracks
Yet no liquid falls through.
Is there a machine to block it?
A small unnoticeable force.
No, probably not, just in my mind.
Well no matter the cracks, I’m quite thirsty.
I get a glass of juice and find out some other day.
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