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slam poetry

but i cannot read you now
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
if it
if i had known how narrow a prison is love
earth travails
one sweetly solemn thought
up to her chamber window
at midnight
look back with longing eyes and know that i will follow
made up of loveliness alone
before the solemn bronze saint
the endless, foolish merriment of stars

 



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