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Was not, want not
Maybe waste, is a hero...
Specific notion, of a quaint lot
Given to significant others, to owe

Promises and races
Taken advantage of...
Lucre, in tight places
To tear fright from an alien love

Powers that did...
Hark amidst times rest
A halt of hardship, habit, and hid
Youths of a secret, we blessed

Time in now's moral
Such, a reason for each
Their solitude, is sour rational
The question, of life to reach...

For loves first kiss...
Peace, worth more than poise
With each decency, we made is
A world's choice...
Speed seems to be a quiet clamor for more than a calling of wishes, even mention the patience...

— The End —