From the Diary of a Cynic (Who Happened to Be in a Good Mood One Day)     A cancerous cell, That rapidly quells Any sane person's peace of mind.   A stripper of sense, That leaves no defense And simply isn't, really, all that kind.   It rearranges perceptions, And dismantles intentions To the point one has nothing at all.   So sweet and so pure, But there isn't a cure. My Goodness, Love, Heavens, what gall!     Jody Nagel circa 1980
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