Life..

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What is it about this life that makes us cry?
We invest our time, and give our hearts, but they only end up being used as targets for darts.
Why do we hate loving, yet cannot stop? What is this yearning that we’ve all got?
Filled with anger the hurt spreads like heated glue. Sticking painfully,  to me and you.
Severed lines and broken fools.
Yet each moment as precious as irreplaceable jewels

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