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A
poem is never finished, only abandoned. ~Paul Val�ry
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Remorse of a Wanton
What do I do with this innocent heart of mine? I feel, I fear That there really is no more time I've tried to keep this body enslaved In chains To keep it free, to keep it from your greedy grasp What do I do with this betraying heart of mine? It yearns, it whispers Needs and wants your love But you refuse to listen, refuse to hear And you know, I know, you know so well That it breaks this little heart of mine. raw || truth |