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Poem about PoemsI write all this poems and I wonder why.
I weep and cry for those who didnt make it,
for those who didn't find true love.
And some how,
I pick my pen and write the story all over again.
Were doneNow that were apart,
I'm free of the guilt the guilt that screams I don't love you.
It seems like we were just done,
But I know it was a while ago and now I'm free of you and that misarable guilt I held againts you.
I met someone new,
Someone I actually think I might love.
The persons name is not improtant,
But what matters is how I truly feel about him.
He makes me feel safe,
He makes me feel true.
You saw the real me and so does he,
But he sees more than that and you knew that from the begining.
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