"Smiling manned as though paralyzed from a spinal injury that leaves one stuck on the same features wishing any moment meant drunk from commercialized whisky because of one word, like. If you've gotten past my first sentence, this is me in my essence, a poetic maniac with a phobia for repeated works, yikes!! So as I encounter words, which alone amount to sound, I'm intrigued at the motivations of those that venture into the path of rhyme, which in fact involves only dykes. No, not the ones that will eventually be splitting a child, I'm talking of preventative measures while regurgitating sound similar to the way sea does sand, but this is life. You see, if the effort to seal a heart sums up to mere associations that require, no, demand every other letter incorporated in script contain 'like' as an inscription of profound forts of acquired now, then all I have is syke! Colloquial surprises to complete a garden of verbiage that paints pictures of literal blunders portraying sentences absent of quality thread, only like. Urgh! I recycled like so here's an extra point aimed at driving home the idea that though poetic, it justifies no path given following automates secondary status akin weeds in a tree's farm where every word I plant is a fig, unlike pine."
Mitishamba ~ Nothing against you pine, you stalk.