Words as a Cure

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Words are a cure

to my otherwise non-appealing allure. 

I am as pure as one could be,

if being pure involves living grief.

Sparse and superb

are the beauties in this world.

I use my mind like a locker combination.

How did I fall off my path to my forgotten destination?

Tricks and traps capture my belief;

What is a tree with just one single leaf?

I lost my soul. I forgot my mind.

I forgot this cure. I hate to know what ties will bind.

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