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death poetry

like eagles on up high
the arches of the red bridge
in mournful numbers
what do i owe to you
i had a dream and i awoke with it
i am dying
now that i have cooled to you
are you alive?
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
my sorrow, when she's here with me
these be
the ancient songs
three years ago today

 



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