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child poetry

somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
these be
now while my lips are living
and so it goes
i stand in the cold gray weather
there is a city, builded by no hand
thoughts through my head
often is it not so?
i made a vow once, one only
noises that strive to tear
be patient, life, when love is at the gate
i fill this cup
a very remarkable history this is

 



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