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Heart Worm (scraps)

My little heart worm,
I can feel you in my bones.
My little umbrella,
I can see your little stones..

made of bones,
stacked in cones,
tied in rows,
and knows no loathes.

My little heart worm.
Maggot of things that are dead.
You eat up every
ounce of my
fiber of my being.
And soon
(give my forty-five minutes)
I'll be leaving.

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