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Poem of The Heart

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There's first name pretentious
or otherwise human
Difficult to determine through
this foggy lens
Another visit to her beating heart
Once again I am given
a jacket upon entry
For they say the weather's too cold

The tour-guide
a feeble-looking character
Describes the exhibit as
a love letter to disaster
Pity the line "We're not happy 'til we're choking"
is carved into each fleshy wall
The girl has figured ego's not
worth her sanity
And yet they've found she's
overdosed
on her easily-accessible vanity




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