Idiots of March are past and gone,
And the frolic of fools is upon,
Breezes of change set in motion
With undeceived eyes now open.
The inconsolable laughter still reels
In distant memory as it seals.
Where less than three is always one,
Yet belonging, questioned in fun.
Reason loses this battle within,
Yet in is not out, the world is seen.
The mischievous, the cad,
The broken ballerina, completely mad.
Now watch and learn strength endure
Pursued progress will secure.
Of what is shown, false or true
Will win the bet to accrue.
Boisterous and witty and charming and gay,
Even before the Morons of May.
Devoured in pain through every season,
But no more a fool for all reasons.
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