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Thursday, June 10, 2004


My Heart
The mysterious soul, that comes from the deapths of the wind.
Or sometimes the black cat walking from out of the alleyway.
My heart is my heart, no matter how mean or rude it gets.
My heart always holds a light inside, such as every heart does.
Even the hearts of the vile sinners, all who hold it consume it.
The one's who don't, perish.

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