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■ The oak
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Layers
If early life has been unkind I save myself from what I find Should I trace a path in the sun where all could have begun The world see me as a fool sometimes harsh and crude The amount of fear building up inside washes me in its tide I crumble too far back in my unrevealed past once more stirring astray thruths of me in dismay Then by layers I become what lies under the undone Veroflame June 9th, 2005
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