I'm adept at keeping secrets,
Almost to the point of genius.
Though I am tempted to speak up,
I am locked into my sequence
Which makes oceans look like puddles;
Trenches dwindle into potholes,
The lions roleplay as meerkats,
And crystal balls mimic bubbles.
Fallen prospects my achievements,
Many as I am facetious,
The treble conceals my troubles
Which bestow my regrets credence.
Joyful is my epithet, and
Even I can understand,
If the cover is so ornate,
The pages will be left unscanned.
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