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Dear Mother
You are rarely spoken to, though you surely hear
 Our rantings and ramblings and apologies
 Though we speak them to each other only.
 We little group must be both amusing
 And pitiful to your ancient mind
 To hear our frantic hurrying on your face
 When you know all things arrive with time
 You resent us as well, don’t you?
 To feel the sting as steel breaks your skin
 And hollows your vitals like a pumpkin
 Your tears flood our homes from above
 Humiliation brings blood to the surface
 And sets our towns burning and boiling
 How will you deliver your final retribution?
 That is what frightens us most of all
 Please consider our deep regrets
 At having vandalized your well-worn cheek
 And gouged out your eyes with progression
 There are many trying to reconcile with you
 From conservationists, who save your property,
 To conversationists, who chat up your children.
 You may remember our forefathers, long ago
 Making sacrifices and spilling sacred liquids
 To rejuvenate your more sprightly visage
 So, as one young member of this clumsy race
 I would like to make a formal apology
 We’ll patch things up as quick as we can.
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