Dear surgeon, I submit me to thy knife;
to replumb my wayward entrails,
which have given me such strife.
Co-lo-rect this misdirection,
and segregate the flow;
that the vapor trail less taken
might be taken nevermo.
And when the cuttin's done, will that be all?
Will I be clean, or will you find microflora
The future is not ours to see, you see
It is all ... viscera sera
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