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kid poem

not from the whole wide world
you say you love me
rising moon has hid the stars
i burn no incense
master of human destinies am i
when the hours of day are numbered
sing again the song you sung
those black eyes i once so praised
the hypocritic days
better than granite
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
the body may confine

 



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