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New Poems

Fixed is the Doom

Word Count: 173    |    Released on: 18/11/2017

oom; and to th

ht, friend, love

h near, yet separ

hine beyond him

ve, forever

ach, with cries

lted; as

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“I ASK good things that I detest, With speeches fair; Heed not, I pray Thee, Lord, my breast, But hear my prayer.”