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grandma poem

with lips blood red and heart of stone
backward, turn backward
sleep sweetly in your humble graves
the ships are lying in the bay
sun stepped down from his golden throne
i despise my friends more than you
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
i bid them all farewell
how shall i help to right the world that is going wrong
as it
you say you love me
i am old and blind

 



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