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Our ILKYour arms sacrosanct, a crypt of prior needs. A fortunate few men here ,scattered their seed Carefree, yes careless,dreaming empty vanities, Casting an astral pall of sacred profanities, Embodied in the grace of my doom An elegant demise,a slept in soul. Myself and I ,crowded in one room. Body and mind split, the fool is my role. Take care,take heed of the image you wear. A sad girl beneath hides the harlot you bare. Enough has been said of the broken mind. Fashioned by fate we are of the same kind. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem |
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