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Passion locked up
In his bones
He hears them creaking
Their endless groans
His marrow is packed
Overflowing with dynamite
Glowing like embers
And pulsing with light
He tried to bury them
But they cannot die
The deeper he digs
The brighter they shine
Now it is a furnace
A cauldron of desire
The only time it eases
Is when he sits down to write
Dawn & Dusk 
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