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I have a porcupine
For my valentine.
I chose her cause I’m in love.
With her nose on my clothes,
And her paws on my pants,
And her small pointy quills,
Making holes in my plants,
She crunches my piano,
She ruffles my cat,
She ruins my banana,
She tries on my hat,
And then a quill to your ear,
If suddenly you appear.
And it makes her quite nervous,
Usually around Christmas,
I love her so genuine,
My sweet lonely porcupine,
For my valentine.

A man should not strive to eliminate his complexes but to get into accord with them: they are legitimately what directs his conduct in the world.
Sigmund Freud

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