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Heart of Stone

He built his dreams with fire and steel,   Through sweat and pain, through grit and will.   His path was carved with silent nights,   A war he waged beyond the sights.   But love, so sweet, so soft, so near,   Whispered dreams into his ear.   A choice was placed upon his chest—   His passion’s flame, or love’s request.   He turned away from burning light,   Held her close, embraced the night.   Yet soon he found, to his dismay,   Both love and purpose slipped away.   For goals demand a heart of stone,   And love still longs to call its own.   To chase one means to lose the fight,   To hold both tight is rarest might.   So walk the road with eyes aware,   Choose with wisdom, choose with care.   For once you drop what makes you whole,   You lose the fire—and lose your soul.
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Nkatha

Nkatha, brow furrowed, a storm in her head,
Thoughts like dark clouds, a heavy heart dread.
"This job," she whispers, a sigh in the air,
"Is it a burden, a life I can't bear?"

Each day a battle, a spirit subdued,
A monotonous grind, misunderstood.
"Is this all there is?" a question so deep,
A yearning for purpose, a promise to keep.

The drudgery beckons, a soul-sucking tide,
"Like hell's chained prisoner, nowhere to hide."
But Nkatha's a fire, though embers may dim,
A spirit that's yearning, a strength yet to win.

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