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funny poetry

if the red slayer think he slays
they threw a stone, you threw a stone
the old songs
who will be naming the wind
last midnight
in their ragged regimentals
up and down he goes
these hearts were woven of human joys and cares
birds against the april wind
since i have felt the sense of death
if it
evidenced in the glimmer in your eyes
earth travails
the little white prayers

 



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