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Sun
Patrick Goins
22 Jan 2004
I. Sun She is a star, a sun, burning brightly Lighting the world with her burnish. I shoot my words as satellites only To have them burn before they touch her ears. She never listens, anyway. She only looks at me with that look, The same look you'd give a dying faun Or some fragile beauty that is quickly fading, And she murmurs some condolence For the love that will never be.
eh
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