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Staying up late
Into the wee hours
Of morning as
Four graces the clock
Finding words that
Belong to others
To the lips, the mouths,
The voices of others
Only because we take them
We use them
And claim them as our own
Screaming at the very
Top of our lungs
The soft whispers
Of talking mice,
Of pirates, of wizards, and kings
Because though they first were
Belonging to someone else
Now they are ours
To bring to life
And keep to our hearts
Together
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