a frail aria’s timid tone damned rage.

So ran I,

to order a note we both sang.

I laid low,

on miserable bald locations.

Sent I was,

all it is, I was.

I wondered,

Is no cost set as I deliver debts I made?

Will a foe rise?

Dare I pass or can I leer?

In eve’s yawn,

it left some gain.


On I age,

most felt in ways even I reel in

Across a pier,

a desire of all I wed,

a mist bed.


is a test so considered.

Now I saw.

Is it ill as a witness?


it a cold label bares.

I’m now old,

I align ash to be wet on a red root.

In a rose garden made not dim,

its air, a liar,

fades pale.

There’s something special about this poem (which I didn’t write, btw). Can you find it?

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