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suicide poetry

i make my shroud, but no one knows
i stand in the cold gray weather
skies they were ashen and sober
sun stepped down from his golden throne
sweet with fern and rose
do you hear the rain?
from song and dream for ever gone
my true love from her pillow rose
let us express our baser passions
see, they return
i reside at table mountain
night is dark, and the winter winds
death's nobility again

 



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