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All is Fair

A pen may meet the paper,
And write of love and war,
But mine searched for something new,
What was it looking for?
A voice for inspiration,
That fills the night and sky,
Eyes that match the golden sun,
So perfect I could DIE.
You’re just another wannabe,
And perfect you are not,
This is what I get for thinking so,
‘Cause now my dreams are SHOT.




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