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A Poet Of Bleeding Heart & Broken Self

A poet of broken self and bleeding heart am I,
My heart, how many times has it broken like the glass piece,
You do not ask,
As have seen my face in so many images of mine
With a sadness,
A starnge sadness of mine,
Singing the song in memory,
Going on the untrodden paths of life.

I don’t think if you have the same as is mine,

Growing up young, falling in love,
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