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I was mad when I wrote that poem,
And I wrote it too fast.
But since I still love you,
I wander happily back to its past.
I read myself because I love myself,
And I still love you, my precious division!
I forgive my poem and all its flaws.
Self-love is my genius—but it’s genius,
Not selfishness, which breaks a few laws.
Revision is my God. Revision, like Criticism, forgives
The awkward poem, lifts my poem up.
And that’s how my love for you still lives.
Image may be NSFW.
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