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There is no other mystery, than the mystery of oneself, relinquishing all hope to that of guilt.

I’ve never cried a tear for you
but you’ve cried tears for me
two, maybe three.
When will you understand
this romance has come to an end,
and I can’t take much more of the pain,
the whining, the tears—
they were left on the fence for a crow to drink dear!

Categories: Poetry
Tags: #Humor, #Life

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