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teenage love poem

within my hand i hold
how shall i help to right the world that is going wrong
a mile behind
let me be sad
the snow whispers about me
i loathed you
as a white candle
weak-winged is song
sad are they who know not love
i make my shroud, but no one knows
high-born race
thou unrelenting past
hang no wreath
what do i owe to you

 



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