there is no ice
no hard fall's bruise
no slick blade's slice
no heat of sun
no guilt from vice
that burns like you do
in my mind.
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Verbal Composer
- The Midnight Writer
- Left-handed, coffee addict, idealist weathered into a high-minded, stubborn cynic. I'm young enough to look forward to life, and old enough to pretend I'm wise. I hide during the day, roam at night, and have an extra limb on my body, otherwise known as my coffee mug.
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