Damn you, broken stapler!
Why do you mock me so?

All I desire is to bind ten pages,
yet, you struggle to resist the pulp.

It is for the better good,
that these ten pages should meet.

They must follow, in line,
one by one.

Have you never belonged to a worthy cause?
Have you never found joy in your talents?

Please, do not bend or brake,
your silver legs of pointed grace.
Protrude and puncture with lofty aim,
and create new bonds of paper dreams.

 
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