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Click hereYour heart has its arteries—
they're inappropriate,
incongruous with the pictures you drew
as a young girl in Greene,
on hot sidewalks with colored chalk,
amongst the rainbows and devils,
when your pigtails were tied
by your mother while you squirmed,
on the floor with your turtle,
whom you liked to hug so close
to your pink and symmetrical girl-heart
You probably don't need any commas in this poem. I love the poem 'though, hence the fiver.