Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star

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    This is one rhyme that you do not want to read in the nursery.


Twinkle, twinkle, little star.

How I wonder what you are.

Just a ball of gas in space,

magnetic zits upon your face,

swelling with ionic glop.

O, how I hope they’ll never pop!


Unstable star upon the sky

is gonna blow by and by,

blasting radioactive flame

that none of us can hope to tame.

O, how I hope it’ll always stay

many long lightyears away!


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