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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Emotional · #1677319
Not till now had I known, that true scars, were deep cuts on the heart,
I had been cursed with eyes that had seen fare few evil,
That taunted, and plagiarized with my mind,
Not till now had I known, that true scars,
were deep cuts on the heart,
Given, taken and abstraction, to a life without it's melody,
Caused from such little grief,
A pain that strength could not heal.
I am not the path in which you can choose,
But a stool, that sits in it's place,
A fathom dunked in ivory,
Saturated from love,
Wherefore did I see such enemy.
A curve not rounded, nor squared,
Or any color the rain has shined
Such beauty, but paced in elegant light,
...
I sit here... yes,
Pondering that same very thought.
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