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Friday, February 24, 2006


   Different Views
The day is dim
The heavens are bright
Oh, how contrast looms
In the same different reality
A piercing ray
Or unseen grief?
As the sun, she seems, questionable

Her body is green
but, her apple yellow
Mind overfilled with painful childhood toys
Representative of meant in love
Bestowing pain
Core sore with bad blood of mother tree

She doesn't want to hear it
The words can't find her soul
Until their minds connect
Through the windows of their eys

When someday she meets her dove,
A golden corngrain may be in common all
But a respect and care beyond
Comparison with any other toy.

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