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There can be no Blank canvas
In my mind
All things form upon the tip of these fine hairs
Blanket the wind in misted clouds
Of sand
And take that which is Subject to heart
I will use this scene to make myself
Complete again
I am but the artist, Not as real as the Art
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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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