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Nov 2014
Meandered through every fissure of the brain
Thoughts gone haywire
God, I believe you test me big time
May You fed this soul with beautiful rhyme.

This heart of mine is not a toy
No, dear do not fall for boys
You were surrounded with thorns
Safe, secured, in hope all these by gone.
Dechanteur
Written by
Dechanteur
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