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seasons of my heart

Poetry

Love: infinitely personal and consistently imperfect. Life: like the seasons, continues to move on; never stopping and always changing. Hope: the persistent light in the dark.

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Missing Pieces (To My Heart)

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If I find an answer to a question I never knew I had
and I don't like it,

                          
can I pretend it doesn't exist?
You've reached the end of published parts.

⏰ Last updated: Sep 05, 2018 ⏰

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