I think I love him
I think I love himHe has a lure
I think I love him
but I'm not for sure
I think I love him
Oh could it be?
I think I love him
if only he would love me.
I think I love him
I think I love himPoetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.
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