Sometimes you have to do what have to do.

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A cruel heart,
Made of glass,
Made of rock
Made of anything but soft tissues.

Torn apart,
Made of shreds,
Made of stones,
A canvas of scars and issues.

Dysfunctional,
And crisp as a cold gust,
There is no room in there for anyone,
A dungeon so gruesome.

There is only the maze,
Of confused feeble walls,
Where you got lost,
And lost it all.

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