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￭ The only thing
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2005-11-07 | |
All sorts of weird people I feel
As deep they bite my life and chew it
Not that thereâ€™s any other hurt to peel
For painâ€™s my treasure to its last bit.
A knife they left; their toy to children
Of hope; to when all joys died out
â€śDo it yourselfâ€ť kit for the time when
The only hopeâ€™s the certainty of doubt.
Oh, how delightful life is
Would you be having napkins, please?
Or toilet paper, diapers, mummies
To wipe my feelings dry, Louise.
Oh, raptured morning, evening glow
Of what my eyes are drinking
You barless prison, stringless bow
Beheaded death with fingers itching.
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