Into the attic I creep.
Just for a tiny peak.
They won't ever know.
I'll go real slow.
A pirates trunk to find.
Jolly Rogers and that kind.
Slowly open to look.
It's empty, but one book.
Soiled and old, yet it gleams.
First page open, by seams.
"Dear Diary, today I cry.
I met this nice guy".
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