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UNQUENCHED
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Tears will not put out the fire
That burns in the bosom of one who has been grievously wronged
Booze will not wash it away
It will not blow away like dust
Or be swallowed down and digested
No, the only thing that can put out the fire
In the bosom of one who has been grievously wronged
Is the consolation of philosophy
The soothing balm of understanding
On the edges of the burn zones
Until one day there is just a scorched area
Where the fire once raged with menace and fury
A charred place where gradually something new can take root
Send up a tiny hopeful shoot and begin to fill with life's promise
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