My heart isn't allowed to sing. My heart is on a strict poem regimen because it's tone deaf. And no sonnets! Those things are just singing...incognito. We don't take to kindly 'round here to things being all sneaky like. So no singing for this heart of mine. Now we can write poems, and we shall write poems. We will write poems about love and philosophical mysteries.
Bleh. I'm still sick feeling. Lets go muse over some John Locke's Social Contract.
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