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suicide poetry

how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
and so it goes
she burst fierce wine
the sun is up
brief on a flying night
did you ever hear of
gone before us
why do you always stand there shivering
of sun nor stars
in the cloud-gray mornings
my true love from her pillow rose
gaily through the fields we danced
from song and dream for ever gone

 



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