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african american poetry

i despise my friends more than you
all those treasures that lie
afraid no more, i say
sadly speaking
do not grieve that it is over
why do you always stand there shivering
who is the runner in the skies
as it
a pen of steel
sleep sweetly in your humble graves
very well, you liberals
gaily through the fields we danced
she must go back, she said
let us plant

 



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