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An old silver church in a forest / Is my love for you. …
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Oh, the agony of having too much power! / In my passive palm are hundreds of lives. …
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Those on the top say they know you, Earth—they are liars. / You are my father, and the silence I work in is my mother. …
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No fawn-tinged hospital pajamas could cheat him of his austerity, / Which tamed even the doctors with its pure fire. …
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A sky that has never known sun, moon or stars, / A sky that is like a dead, kind face, …
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Straight strength pitched into the surliness of the ditch, / A soul you have—strength has always delicate secret reasons. …
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I despise my friends more than you. / I would have known myself, but they stood before the mirrors …