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"where's your fire" they say.
"i haven't any" i say back.
"but your mother she rages with that fire."
"my mother isn't me."
"what about your father he feels like a pond."
"my father isn't me."
"but your soul is as smooth as satin your voice is unfaltering your words are exhausted where is it from."
"it's from the tender love i have to give to myself because no one has ever given me any."
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