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Pacific
Mist kicked up by gusts
Far off places leave their scent on beaded drops
This ocean is mine
Each cracked angle of foam that never stops
Licking rocks to sand
Ever making patterns on my beached mind
Floating natures toys
Buried in your breath for me to find
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Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. - Buddha
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