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sorry poem

a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
since i have felt the sense of death
she heard the children playing in the sun
be not false
she knows a cheap release
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
there is no flock, however watched and tended
all those treasures that lie
short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it
shades of night were falling fast
as i lie roofed in, screened in

 



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