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Tears fell
all night long
she hasn’t slept a wink
the moon
he tried to call to her
but her mind can’t be reached.
She walked
in the cold night air
hoping for relief
the hurt
is so deep inside
like a form of grief.
Tears
froze on her cheeks
but never felt the sting
for the cold made her numb
as she listened to the wind sing.
She said a silent prayer
to the stars up above,
she prayed for her heart
to understand
and to always
be open with love.

Love, like poetry never really dies
words can become blurred,
verses left undone, just as a heart
can break, because of its own love.
~
This was written after talking to someone who was going through a hard time, emotions that at times I can relate to also.
one hundred percent
is an ideal quota
there's perfection
in the quota

that's
the
quota
all
gals
so
love
on
guy­s
giving
one
hundred
percent
of
their
love

no other quota
will suffice
it's got to be
one hundred percent
that quota
is so nice

why give
forty percent
why give
sixty percent
always make it
one hundred percent

it's a simple maths equation
one and one
equals a well entwined two
and it only happens
when one hundred percent
ensues
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