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No angels marr my shoulder space No horns nor wings to find But yet there are two sides of me That unkindly cohabit my mind. Fighting, fighting, constant quarrel, Both wrestling for command. No time to take a quick breath in For loss of reprimand. A girl and a philosopher, Not opposites, you see. I'm in no condition for juxtaposition Lest subjected to therapy. The girl is cruel, with a capricious streak, Unyielding, growling, beast. Philosopher questions her every say, Persistant in the least.
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Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 6:17 PM UTC
Torn Conscience
No angels marr my shoulder space No horns nor wings to find But yet there are two sides of me That unkindly cohabit my mind. Fighting, fighting, constant quarrel, Both wrestling for command. No time to take a quick breath in For loss of reprimand. A girl and a philosopher, Not opposites, you see. I'm in no condition for juxtaposition Lest subjected to therapy. The girl is cruel, with a capricious streak, Unyielding, growling, beast. Philosopher questions her every say, Persistant in the least.
anna-pavoncello
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Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 6:17 PM UTC
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