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poem

so fallen
the agony of having too much power
though i am little as all little things
pharaoh, king of egypt's land
when night drifts along the streets of the city
the dawn was apple-green
we lay
since, if you stood by my side today
i do not pray for peace
to be able to see every side of every question
as i lie roofed in, screened in
but i cannot read you now
last midnight

 



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