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All sorts of weird people I feel
As deep they bite my life and chew it Not that there’s any other hurt to peel For pain’s my treasure to its last bit. A knife they left; their toy to children Of hope; to when all joys died out “Do it yourself” kit for the time when The only hope’s the certainty of doubt. Oh, how delightful life is Would you be having napkins, please? Or toilet paper, diapers, mummies To wipe my feelings dry, Louise. ------------------------------------ Oh, raptured morning, evening glow Of what my eyes are drinking You barless prison, stringless bow Beheaded death with fingers itching.
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