poem number one
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as i walked thourgh the chilly fall night in the park
the tear sting as if they were cuts
the joyus mood i had this mouring had poofed with the news of his death
the tears fought against the cells i had made for them when the news had sunk in
the remores i had couresed thourgh me buring my veins as if i were in hell lump had grown in my thoart let out a hoarsed sob for my dear grandfather
