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sad death poem

she knows a cheap release
a few more windy days
a mile behind
the body may confine
i burn no incense
there is an hour of peaceful rest
the shadows of the ships
when you come tonight
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
the hypocritic days
pushing out, struggling vainly
over the river they beckon to me
the agony of having too much power

 



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