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suicide poetry

your body's motion is like music
if i had known how narrow a prison is love
here lies a most beautiful lady
i bid them all farewell
pushing out, struggling vainly
she might have known it in the earlier spring
in mournful numbers
out of me unworthy and unknown
old wine to drink
looking beyond
this is the song of youth
rocked in the cradle of the deep
and breaketh bread no more
in new york harbor

 



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