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May 16
Whence do others get theirs,
that I may go up and claim part,
all have but I lack simply it's unfair,
I not being first or last realise this journey must start,
My mind labours your prepositions to process,
Your pace is strenuous to keep,
Now you say I am a lost sheep,
like a child deserted in the wild,
Speak sense into my mind,
Hence let my heart rejoice if what it seeks it does find.
Written by
Waynepatrick  19/M
   Arrow and BR Dragos
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