Whistling

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I held a gift so close 

Its life began to crumble

Every time I held it 
I always seemed to fumble
So I stand afar 
Admiring yet perplexed
How a gift that brings such joy 
Can also be so vexed
The answers can’t be found
In an atmosphere of gloom
So my hands are in my pockets
And I’m whistling a tune 





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