On the long line for admission
To Hell stands a child. It's hard
To imagine why she's there
But there she is, fidgeting,
Holding the memory of a toy
That was blown up with her
One damned soul makes faces
To amuse her. Another starts
A long story about an elephant
And a lizard and a flying boat.
It's a very long line and, really,
What else have we to do?
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