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Never have they ever really liked brussel sprouts 

Until when recently they worked out how to steam them gently 

Peeling pink paint

 Off their butt to find more pink below pink 

They go:  Hell yeah! Imma make a real nice suit 

(You are not crazy the system is!) 

Meanwhile they keep peeling off paint looking for the true colour 

Nail polish struggling to catch up 

Scratching matching snatching

A theory of suits would exceed the frame premise to this poem 

Now what is the thing behind?

Often things end on the floor

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