poetry writing
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There’s a song inside of me waiting to burst free if I could make myself sit down and breathe maybe it would come to me.
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Be still my bleeding heart Be still my weeping soul For not all tears are evil though evil they may seem For they only measure the journey that was, that is and that will be.
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I wish I was a painter So I could paint you a beautiful picture I wish I was a song-writer To write you lyrics that would make you cry
tales of Suchita 