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suicide poetry

some one complained to the master
and breaketh bread no more
it was a tall young oysterman
softly now the light of day
when freedom from her mountain height
sweet splendor
i love the old melodious lays
i stood by the open casement
day is done
tell me less or tell me more
i make my shroud, but no one knows
shadows lay along broadway
the light withdrawn
are you alive?

 



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