It is bulging
The tiny part
Discouraging
Yet not depart
Stuck in clart
Often chained or hewn
My heart
His echoing tune
It is nudging
The past art
Indulging
In inviolable cart
Back from the start
Acting like a prune
Is more smart
His echoing tune
It is fudging
To tear apart
Judging
And making a dart
To cease any restart
Reminiscence is strewn
No more efforts to impart
His echoing tune
My tender heart
As in a heated dune
Lives in which part
His echoing tune
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