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AN OUNCE OF MOURN
Coldly he looked down
toward ill trodden ground.
Memories shaken by he
who lacked fervor and glee.
From voices and haunting,
emotions stood wanting.
So quickly did loving stray.
Never seeking what to say.
A few moments of sadness
was sent warding off madness.
Procession so utterly absent
from pain and lament.
Michaela Warren 2011
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