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I Laugh

I laugh at the discovery
Of the new dead poets;
I’m dying here,
But no one knows it;
Too soon for an autopsy.
My ankles swell,
It must e dropsy;
Pile my books
Around: a curtain,
I breathe
My fame is still uncertain...

Submitted: Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, July 10, 2013


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