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David Hilburn Jun 13
Ably, a convenient door
Caution, I would esteem's vain
Let with poorer light, a certain valor
Has taken me, for a fate that prayed...

Sweet order
To a life, so lived
So sent to wishes, foreign?
In the name of love, given

But persuasion remains
Sour reasons, with a tongue
Let in certain light anew, the stains
Of lucre's rhetoric, has a voice that won

Hatred, for a kiss
Somehow profound
Somehow blood, is our only wish?
Breaking a promise, sympathy allowed

A welcome turn of chaste
Into a fate of simple regrets
Made well, and in need, haste
That stole life's reasons, where we never met...?
Heathen? show your imposition to a ghost, and pillows will talk in a language that lived longer than, you...

— The End —