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Created on: May 16, 2008
"Too Late"
I cannot say what I feel,
For I fear that it is not real,
The sight of you makes my heart leap,
The fear of the past makes me weep,
I'm like a tree; forever sad,
Whilst my heart becomes increasingly mad,
Knowing my tendency to procrastinate,
And wondering if it is already too late.
Learn more about this author, Lorelai George.
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