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 April silent stands, Summer’s deception, at hand. 
 It throws me shirts, drenched in sweat, Seat cushions, a burning threat, Buzz of mosquitoes, a constant hum, Melancholic appetite, doomed. 
 It heaps on me a stack of finals, Homework rushed, trials and trials, Exams impending, a looming doom, Useless silence from insomnia’s room. 
 Summer stirs a thousand poets’ might, To praise its hunger, its radiant light, Deceiving me, in a season’s trance, This day seems like an endless dance. 
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