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Tig, you’re it!

a running kid got hit

got stuck with the bit that pit one against them

lit the flame to stop the game, refusing to play, sit

in between the lines, fit, outside the rhymes, counting

nine times, tables on my fingers, lingers, stingers, ringers, grinners,

everything is never been just so, though at least I know, how to stop, it.

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