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A
poem is never finished, only abandoned. ~Paul Val�ry
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Riddle Me This
Riddle Me This I have a problem Expressing myself I share too much As I stone my breath. I have a problem Being me I hide my true self With absolute certainty. I am a puzzle Not knowing who I am A million pieces scattered Behind an impressive dam. I am a riddle With no known answer A twisted word game That you only lust after. I have a problem Expressing myself Emotions wither and die Wasting away upon a dusty bookshelf. I am me A bane upon my soul For there are so many things That me, myself and I do not know.
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