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suicide poetry

there is a city, builded by no hand
are you awake?
night is dark, and the winter winds
the snow whispers about me
look back with longing eyes and know that i will follow
not from the whole wide world
some of the hurts you have cured
i saw god. do you doubt it?
i am the wind that wavers
if i were very sure
with lips blood red and heart of stone

 



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