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Stitched Hearts

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The little rag doll is her only friend
She carries it everywhere that she goes
To stitch up a heart that she needs to mend
Whether her’s or the doll’s, nobody knows

The worn doll will always smile for her
And its ragged ear will always listen
With silent patience wavering never
The right size for a hug to be given

Yet the doll cannot laugh for her to hear
The doll cannot offer words of comfort
It cannot do anything but be near
It hasn’t a heart; nothing of the sort



She’s holding hands with herself in a way


But it helps her look up to the next day




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