December 27, 2011
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All I draw are flowers,
All day long,
On my labels and on my name tags,
My books are never blank.
So many petals,
On such high stalks,
They even grow on my skin,
If you take away my flower,
I'll be gone,
Gone, gone...
What could be left,
But winter, cold, and white,
And empty,
Blanketing my pages.

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