I Am A Statistic
The math is too stable,
a rigid thin-line to walk.
Tight-rope across the struggles,
and hope for no faults,
No errors in logic; and that's
Too stable, too stable for me.
Perfection's a fable, a dream
Unrealizable. A break in
the process makes unreliable
results. The paper is sharp,
And leaves little cuts.
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