I don’t think I’m a fish,
but I don’t belong on land
I swim all that I wish,
but I’d rather like to stand.
I’ve got this fancy tail,
though it’s shrinking day by day.
The air I can’t inhale,
’cause my gills get in the way.
These funny little stumps
might turn into legs, I guess.
But I could never jump
with my limbs in such a mess.
Oh, life is complicated
as an awkward polliwog.
I’ll become what God dictated,
but I sure hope it’s a frog!
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