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angel poem

my soul is a dark ploughed field
the little white prayers
i have heard that a certain princess
i despise my friends more than you
i wonder where you live
to come so soon to this imagined dark
so lost
and with the humming bird
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
the darkness
like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon
noises that strive to tear
just as my fingers on these keys
the meadow was creeping

 



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