Did you ever really love me?

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What chance did I have?

. . . and there they go,

There goes all of the people,

Like soldiers in the snow.


Down they go,

Straight into hell,

Gone forever from me,

(And yet still within),

Stinking up the place with their smell.


Little scars inside of me,

That probably won’t ever heal,

And now I’ve got writer’s cramp,

A numbness, an ambivalence,

But am peaceful in the Still.




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