When I need you, you are there
To help me with my work.
Your wooden sides as soft as silk,
The glitter at the top, so sparkly like the ocean at sunrise.
But, when I jab you in the evil beaver-like machine, I cry
For you are getting smaller, and it's not a lie.
Everyday, I shove you in while you make a ferocious noise.
I am sad; I might have to replace you.
But before you go, here it is, an ode for you.
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