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lying on this bed while she wanders in
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you don’t know where life takes you. It’s the way the pounding
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There’s never any ash, anything to sift through.
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Yes, your passion, yes, the time of a flower.
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I was born too much
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The past is so far away, but it flickers,
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Heart has / a thousand weathers but is always
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And all this beneath a sky by nature skyless
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The poem never leaves you,
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I was sunk in one of those