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anniversary poetry

it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
i despise my friends more than you
i love my life, but not too well
they threw a stone, you threw a stone
up and down he goes
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
so lost
tell me less or tell me more
my soul is a dark ploughed field
god
there is a city, builded by no hand
the arches of the red bridge
which keeps
a look is but a ray

 



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