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The complete disarrangement of all my senses, myself my I Is threatened with the bitter sound of uncertain rumour That possesses an urgency of unwillingness An incomprehension of thought The improvised mediocrity of relished indignity Asinine questions, absurd and ludicrous probing Accusations and primitive propensities The deformities of exaggerated obscenities That blame and brand myself my I as mad They have stolen liars tongues
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Apr 16, 2012
Apr 16, 2012 at 4:20 PM UTC
Insane Rumor
The complete disarrangement of all my senses, myself my I Is threatened with the bitter sound of uncertain rumour That possesses an urgency of unwillingness An incomprehension of thought The improvised mediocrity of relished indignity Asinine questions, absurd and ludicrous probing Accusations and primitive propensities The deformities of exaggerated obscenities That blame and brand myself my I as mad They have stolen liars tongues
edgar-whitman-wilde
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Apr 16, 2012
Apr 16, 2012 at 4:20 PM UTC
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