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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Other >> ID #1847957 |
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A visage of mirth so real it cannot compare,
Revels a want to quell desire’s despair; I look and expect this, everywhere. Away from all courses common, Nuzzle night’s lonely lull. All for naught.
© Copyright 2012 David Martin (UN: dmwieczorek at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
David Martin has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |