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A Ballad from the heart

The heart's a fragile instrument but shatters if it's played. A tiny bump will leave a dent and make the colour fade. To have it sing delightful things and nestled on your lap. You need to gently stroke the strings. Be rough and they will snap. When broken it won't sound the same. That pleasant song dies out. Then tells a tale of wilting flame and love that's left to doubt.

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