Me, My Mine and My Mime.

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I’ve just been diagnosed as a closet claustrophobic. Who’d have thought it. Oh, yes – me!

I spent all my time
Down a local mine
With a friendly mime
He was in his prime
We drank soda and lime
But, though sublime
I was aflame
With something I couldn’t name;
Then, I realised my hemmed-in feeling was to blame
And, to my shame,
I had to check my aim.
The last day came
And leaving fortune and fame
I left the game.

Now I feel different
Not the same
Not wild, but tame
And in a frame
Upon the wall
Is a picture of that mine
That mime
And that is the end of this tale of mine.

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