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I troll along this narrow path,Taking my time and refusing to be rash,As I walk through this brush I collect small treasures,Large in meaning, but small in measure,Red stones is what I search for,
  I know what it’s like to fall in love and this is not it i used to have foggy glassesand titchy skin that wrinkled in all the right spotsand a burdensome nose and a wacky smile cocked to the side with thin lips
I've got dimes on my eyes Pennies on my tongue Cents for the senseless Face long gone numb   I've got shells in my pockets I've got mulch in my shoes I've been collecting for what?
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