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poetry for kid

i make my shroud, but no one knows
with joy and wonder
desolate and lone
rising moon has hid the stars
the pale day drowses on the western steep
when a deed is done for freedom
in the dark and peace of my final bed
in the sphere
in halls of sleep you wandered by
still thirteen years
let us express our baser passions
i love my life, but not too well
quietly, with reverance, in awe
i reside at table mountain

 



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