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myspace poem

in the cloud-gray mornings
since i have felt the sense of death
all my love for my sweet
i saw with open eyes
sun stepped down from his golden throne
the saddest of the year
there was a strangeness on your lips
often is it not so?
passing through huddled and ugly walls
old wine to drink
be not false
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise

 



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