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kid poem

a very remarkable history this is
grieve not for the invisible
in mournful numbers
they ask me where i've been
that year
splendid and terrible your love
you say you love me
what was it the engines said
good woman
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
melancholy, blue it was
three years ago today
my soul is a dark ploughed field
dark-eyed

 



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