I discovered a hole
in my pocket and soul,
in which I placed a dime.
There it would live,
lending the strength to give,
but it quickly ran out of time.
Over the hole rests a patch
leaving an itch I must scratch
as I scour for peace of mind
I long for its love,
now it's free as the dove,
never again to be mine.
I have placed a in my pocket
a most wondrous locket,
a masterpiece extra fine.
Though it's weight is the same
I know I am to blame.
A cause no longer mine.
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