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Well, You and your thoughts Make my inner- waves flow off Unto some abyss of silence absolute And chillness horrendous. True, the course dreads me often, Though not of the words' worth, Nor of any terms unusual You ‘ve set in pain's pursuit. Awful afflictions do linger still, Like those unwilling mass of haze On a winter morning house-roof That's soulfully hesitant to melt off. The chariot of emotions, Having lost wheels in panic-field, Fumble in infinite dense of Pains; chaste and unnamed. I name not what squirms In this modest, but raw verse, Yet, appeal, Oh, soul blessed, Dive not unto its dark depth. Pray you to know me better, Welcome and rejoice too, An admirer ardent at your soul's sill; In shapes and nature varied.
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