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Circa March 2012

My heart is subdued by an infant.
He’s pure and unassuming, but manages to
Bring me to the surface of the negative waters
I swim in.
He doesn’t want to change me, says he loves me
Despite my faults.
He’s young and naïve and tries to better himself
To my commands.
I think I’m powerful, able to mold him like clay to my own liking.
My heart fears this creature which will grow and prosper,
And surely will someday turn on me. His maker.
He’ll recognize the impurity of my molding hands.
He’ll recognize that it was all in vain, because his maker is still not happy.
She can never be happy, because she’s not happy with herself.
And a great crash will happen; but will they survive it?
Will the molder ever come out of those negative waters and caress this creature
With untainted hands?

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