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No poem ever written is as good as it could be.
That IMO is what makes art what it is.....imperfection creates something Unique.
We fight within
For perfect Muse
We never win
Instead confuse
The line I thought
But never Use
Is soon Forgot
And wasted.....My muse Abused
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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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