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broken heart poem

the arches of the red bridge
let us pity those who are better off than we are
i've won the race
mysterious night
i am dying
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
these hearts were woven of human joys and cares
brother, i am fire
do not turn your head
often is it not so?
look out upon the stars, my love
we who stood
world that changes under my hand
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white

 



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