Hunger fangs reject nap concepts
The sleepy conceit bows low
To the food-seeking missive:
May it please the court,
A mall will not do at all

Rather take me home before
Three strikes and the clock
Grinds my sandy gears 

A potato and the second hand
To peel and tear and mash
Will repeat its request 
Until the well-run deer
Loses its heart to the forest

Sharper teeth stipple images 
Who might be dreamt
If this lonely mind
Can once again feed
At the side of a stream
Filled with fish instead of water

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