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Aug 2010
Be still my heart, why dost thou turn?
Thy beat is fast, thy passion burns.

Thy flame dost strike within my breast,
And now I cannot find my rest.

Thou fillst my head with hopes and dreams,
Yet naught can come of lovesick schemes.

Alone I rest my head at night,
And still thou beat, to mock my plight.
Fall, 2009
Written by
Abigail Miller
901
   Kittu, Sweet as Salt and Jessie
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