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2008-09-21 | |
But who‚Äôs this blind-child of my lonely memory,
unwanted morning yet unfollowed by another?
Whose time we chew, whose banner
do we tear apart; why bother?
Alone, bewitched by what complete would mean
if empty‚Äôs so rewarding, stand I and mourn‚Ä¶
I‚Äôve lost my mind, I‚Äôve lost my senses
and lost has grown the day when I was born.
‚ÄúStand still‚Ä¶‚ÄĚ I‚Äôm told, ‚Äúand know‚Ä¶‚ÄĚ; and show no pain,
but feel it deep by sides of heart and senses‚Ä¶
So much I know; and time dries bitter ever since
all verbs seem to have lost their future tenses‚Ä¶
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