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Daisies for Ophelia

Delicate as thin, cold glass

I cannot give you what you ask

Why can't I have my time to be

Alone and growing, healthy, free

 

Where is my bright future now

The silver lining to this cloud

The golden horizon I shaped is dead

Traded for the daisies about my head

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Written by
antoinette-christensen
American
Published
Aug 10, 2011
Lines·Words
8·51
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