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The Demented Porcupine

He runs through the forest
chasing after me,
armoured with quills
and me without safety.

In between the trees
ovwer rocky hills,
he won't stop threatning me
with those awful quills.

Like little darts
he shoots them fast,
one zings passed my ear
and I get one in the a$$.

Copyright Cynthia Jones
Feb.8/2005

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