Dylan Buckley, Reporter

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Because he could not care for Love,
The love must have flown away like a dove.                                                             Love, Love, everywhere,
Yet she still looks for that amazing hair.

She had the sight of it, that beloved love that once flew

How She mourned the goodness.
She wanted his heart because it sang to her.              Does it tear you apart to see the goodness so brittle?

A lover, however hard he tries,
He Will always be loved.                                                  Does the amazing sight of love make you shiver?
does it?

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