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The Anatomy of a Tired Heart

Under the willow tree,
We stand and try to remember
The beat of our hearts
And how they never seemed to stop

Under the oak tree
We trace all our veins
And compare them to map routes
The ones we would never follow

Under the acacia tree
We fill our four chambers
With unforgiving love
Until it flows no more

And when it inevitably stops
We pick up the broken pieces
Trying to mend it the best we can






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