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Jul 10
I might seem a bit mystic but I’m good at heart

As a small garden rakes over my eyes and a head digging in and scrapping away

She says,

My heart is like a cleft pomegranate
Bleeding crimson red,
And dripping every seed on the ground
It’s ripe and over-full,

My dissatisfied heart,
My heart it is more human than I,
More than life itself

Often
My heart cries but my eyes are dry,


And behold my friend
This is what I call my brief tragedy of flesh

So set me free and away
So I can lay at peace
Written by
Kaya  17/F
(17/F)   
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