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sorry poem

since i have felt the sense of death
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
he's gone
i went up and down the streets
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
when the wind works against us in the dark
in and of itself
one by one, like leaves from a tree
in the sphere
let us express our baser passions
i had a dream and i awoke with it

 



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