Is just another store,
People and computers are not perfect,
Regardless of its lore,
Yet it surprises me eternally,
That I am missing parts,
Because now it's going to take me hours,
And it's breaking my heart,
This thing whose essence already exists,
Is denied existence,
If this is how god were to run his store,
This world would be a mess.
So here I sit,
Drowned in imperfection,
I may as well open a store myself,
If it only requires this precision.
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