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short funny poem

my soul is a dark ploughed field
sun and wind and beat of sea
and my name is truthful
take my bracelets
see the tentative
friend, whose smile has come to be
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
i make my shroud, but no one knows
within my hand i hold
high-born race
in may
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be

 



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