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suicide poem

there are gains for all our losses
a life on the ocean wave
up from the meadows rich with corn
just as my fingers on these keys
have we no shame?
now that i have cooled to you
they ask me where i've been
master of human destinies am i
i heard the wind all day
in mournful numbers
over the river they beckon to me
night is dark, and the winter winds
i stood by the open casement

 



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