Poem twenty three

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My brush paints

A picture

Of a girl

With no hope

But soon

There's a spark

In that broken light bulb

She can't see the spark yet

But-

It will grow

Into something more

That will begin from hope that's never more

To always hope

That's in her heart

But it has to grow

And she can't feel it yet

But it's starting to warm

In her stone cold chest

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