There is no sense
Residing within the cents
That clink around my pockets
Though their collective heads
Might be old and wise
When I give up asking them the hard questions
I sense that they feel in relief
A low to mid relief to be exact
Though I always correct them
And tell them that they are simply stamped
Their lack of sense of any kind
Causes them to call me mentally bankrupt
Which is funny because I think they spend just fine
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