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I pour into your cup
once in a while.

I pour tea,
sometimes coffee.

but I was full of everything.
I had so much to give you,
and you soon felt tired,
even bored with your pocket watch ticking,
even destructive with your bombs ticking.

but I kept on pouring into your cup
once in a while.

because maybe,
when my sugar was finally bitter,
when my coffee was finally sweet,
you'd stop the clock
and disarm the bomb

even if it was just
once in a while.

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