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sex poem

when i returned at sunset
some one complained to the master
melancholy days have come
perhaps it is no matter that you died
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
why do
daughter, thou art come to die
i went up and down the streets
a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
i do not pray for peace
my soul is a dark ploughed field
grieve not for the invisible
city that is not a city

 



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