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A Kowtow Climate I sit here polishing the apple Of your affection, the very heart Of your being with kind gestures And loving looks. I butter the bread of your existence Rising consistently and loyally, Always dependable and At your side. I cater to your growing hunger Pampering you with crumpets Spread with honey or jams, Thick and sweet. I crawl in dirt beneath you Beseeching your approval So I may see you shine Past my brown nose. |
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