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Sitting on the marble,

Light enough to float,

A castle of plastic,

Now my very own moat!


Alas I’m betrayed,

The floods are here!

They rip right through me,

Till the water runs clear.


Wringing, scrubbing,

Metal cold against my skin.

But these trials shall be dealt with,

Queen Sponge shall win!


I have never quite known,

Why I’m built this way.

And while I’ll shake it off my back,

Some drops still stay.


- Divij Kulkarni

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