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I looked out my window On a dark April evening And my heart lifted up.   One Yellow  Pansy Had bloomed,  
Dear Mom, Thank you for my blonde hair and for giving me life, but I guess I must thank Father for my pale green eyes and constant need to repeat myself. Thank you for loving me,
You--spill over margins, between lines lace ink with weakness--Your-- trembling fingers aching viscera cold sweats--pouring between shoulders, and flinching limbs--blood pumped by,
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