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sad poem

the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
when i returned at sunset
we who stood
and still they walked on
all those treasures that lie
have you not heard
there's one that i once loved so much
since i have felt the sense of death
short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it
i am in love with high far-seeing places
who will be naming the wind
stand here by my side

 



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