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Smoldering - Poetry Group

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This boundless soul,
It knows no limits,
It's paid the toll,
Never has of yet been seen,
Forever never really means,
What it should when its defined,
With anger have I crossed the line?
No not anger; fury, wrath,
I'd given love and all it hath,
To offer upon those feet so cold,
Is hatred worth the soul that's sold?
This fettered soul,
It has its limits,
There is no toll.

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