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I already love the way this poem is looking. Already love it. My friend in Crown Heights keeps asking, Hows Your Heart? It seems that this is the new way we speak. I hate it. Plus, I haven't the stomach to ponder. I'm using my cheat codes often; running from the cold in winter, guessing what you must think before you tell me, shaking things up before they have time to grow boring and sad. This has caused a few arguments.
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