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My Daughter
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Love, soul mates, happiness
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Daughter, Away, Grown. Missing.
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Good, Evil, who knows.
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Memories, Past, lost
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Languages alive mysteriousUnderstanding one grandNot, when heard wondrousRhythms of jealousySuppose the incomprehensibleMarvel of rhythms from meFluen..
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Troubles
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This poem is a returned poem I am writing to Walt Whitman from the poem he wrote, Full of Life Now.
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Thoughts
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Thoughts of the past are like a
dream.Where are they now? Only in
thought?Or somewhere unknown to the
present,Longing to return?With the presen..
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