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angel poem

see i give myself to you
why are the things that have no death
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
could we but know
we who stood
when night drifts along the streets of the city
i despise my friends more than you
i wonder where you live
take my bracelets
my soul is a dark ploughed field
there was a strangeness on your lips
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor

 



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