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Today, I am feeling sad.

So here is a sad poem about

Horace Hobbs.
On Monday Horace Hobbs felt sad
On Tuesday he felt worse
“The world’s a rotten place,” he said,
“And everything is cursed.”

On Wednesday and on Thursday
Horace failed to improve
He lay there being miserable 
And simply would not move.

On Friday, filled with ennui,
Horace sighed the longest sigh.
On Saturday a lonely tear
Fell slowly from his eye

On Sunday there was not a sound
From Horace Hobbs all day
And no-one noticed Horace Hobbs
Had faded all away

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