Impatience impels impetuous, headstrong hammers,
Tapping tintacks of tactlessness drunkenly askew,
As the blitzkrieg war on wait is limply lost,
With care and caution in the casualty count
And, as nerveless nails are hammered home,
Regret hangs, sorry shelf-like, at a rakish angle,
Haphazardly on the white wall of worried wonder,
Awkwardly admiring the unfulfilling, unsteady upshot
Of yet another dismal do-it-yourself disaster.
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