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prose poetry

how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
let us pity those who are better off than we are
passing through huddled and ugly walls
the hypocritic days
splendid and terrible your love
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
since i have felt the sense of death
high walls and huge
with lips blood red and heart of stone

 



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