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Poetry for me isA man in love, art in the museum Asking a young girl not to daydream, but she dreams anywayI read in the old books that the very existence of human is an illusion, let it beSo, I have built sandcastles, told my mother that I have counted all the stars, Planted rose-bush seeds in winter and saved it for springI believe people are good and evil lives undercoverAnd all that is loveI will tell you about how my love is eternal, how all my dreams came trueHow magic is for real, I promise my poetry is not a songYou must give me your time, both of us need to talkTRULY MADLY DEEPLY.
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