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a post


and although i have failed

i feel that i have lived

and live still.



I remember my little room,

the hard bed by the window

pane. I liked winter best,

the frosted glass,



the white sun struck

the day. i was in love

with everything.


at night, strung

like a dream, i lay

upon the sheet,


rose again; bowed

to the solemn street

below. I was


alone with

nothing to live

for but this,


and i was happy then

i thought – i knew

there was nothing


i could do.


30 March 2016

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