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mom poem

old wine to drink
i see all human wits
and so it goes
are you alive?
i bid them all farewell
darkest, strangest mystery
see, from this counterfeit of him
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
out of me unworthy and unknown
were it not for that singular smell
i stood
with the sunset
when the veil from the eyes is lifted

 



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