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To this day, I cannot decide
Whether it was a feverish dream,
Or an ominous vision,
There was
a poem
here.
It's gone now.
[This post has been removed by the author. If you wish to read it, please contact me directly.]
Remembering our glories past-
All that we had, could never last.
We have fallen low;
We (f)all
Bleed the s(h)ame
We b(r)awl
Feeble f(r)ame
Alone is safe.
Alone is sound.
Alone I drink,
With no one around.
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