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An Intimate Look at a Serrated Soul I was sinking to the bottom familiar ground No new stones to turn no unmasking of the masks My tears coalesced to form a pond of imperfections I was worn by time, dampen by resolve, and loosened from gripping too tight I turned away to divert my glare Then off in the distance someone approached to throw mud pies Slung with mud the crust did form to crack my heart in two |
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