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teen poetry

take my bracelets
we were not many
he'd even have his joke
in your flight
night was black and drear
why are the things that have no death
it was the autumn of the year
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
who loves the rain
i shall see a star tonight
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
very well, you liberals
tripping up, falling down

 



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