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I
feel like a blind man Walking
in the dark Who
thought a door was open, Yet
walks into it, shut. Whose
old wounds, that to his knowledge Were
healed, are open. Who
thought he had reached His
journey's end, But
realized he was still Miles
from his destination. Must
I answer all the questions? Am
I to produce a timetable Of
every week, every day, Every
minute, every moment? Though
the hardest fire To
extinguish is the fire Kindled
by love, The
cold water lies stagnant And
gradually douses The
flame.
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