Her woeful wiles fell short, well well.
Considering the impish nature
taken by a broad swath
of otherwise integral humans,
I would go as far as to say
that our consciousness guides us
to the clock of chance that spins
under porridge bowls
while Goldilocks tests her meal.

Translation: Her attempt at seduction with a pitiful approach blew up in her face. Well well. Considering that a lot of good people do a lot of crappy stuff, I would say that we need to take our own risks.

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