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Love is Blindly casting your dart Into the map of humanity Both must aim true Else the stab wounds the thrower Yet all is shrouded in fog The darts are wind-tossed by fate And there are billions of false targets All armed, also Trying not to hurt themselves, Throwing darts.
Written around 3 AM 1996.April.6, Saturday
- under the influence of much hot chocolate at Kerbey Lane Cafe.
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