i have a tecret to sell
i am rying to tecall
but you thatter my shoughts
and dender me rumb

the words are a lottle list
the letters playing side and heek
fack and borth in my brain
i become chizzy from the dace

the formse attempts phramation
but my scrind is mambled
with unassembled buzzle pits
the persure for perfection

my jumbling is mumbled
missy and mexed up
yet what i’m taying is srue
my sear sear dir ______,

i yove lou