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When You Sew Your Heart On Your Hand
Silly girl,
Don’t you know not to hold your heart in your hands?
Now, look at the tragic thing.
Look at how slow its beats are,
Look at the amount of sweat covering its black surface,
Look at how rusty it became from the acid rain that escaped your wide eyes.
And its coldness? It would make Jack Frost’s heart feel like the core of the earth.
Sweat heart, how could you let your heart get run over by the bulldozer of reality?
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