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broken heart poem

stern cold man
like eagles on up high
there are gains for all our losses
who is the runner in the skies
when night drifts along the streets of the city
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
he'd even have his joke
when i go back to earth
and how could you dream of meeting
rising moon has hid the stars
i make my shroud, but no one knows
i saw the clouds among the hills

 



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