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was
me
the mirrors confession
resulting in shards
in
my
back
blood trinkles
as i walked away
remember me
cry the shards
they began to cry
very hard
oh my shards

break from me these chains
what comfort have i in thee
blind me folded from corners
what arms
of
disbelieve

songs sung through the factors
the blood
of
my
love


what is this blanket of affection
have your clothes all been laundered clean
repeat me
repeat after me
never to return
have we left
answer me
circling
them
take
me
as
i
am
this mere image
an mortal-less man
he had
an
candle

but he
could never
blow it
was
he
that dead poet
?




























...
..
.
from here
to
there
same distance
...
..
.

— The End —