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Wednesday, December 09, 2015

Satirist and pessimist was he known
He was the lover who hated the world
But no love remembered his name
As he found no path, coming back home
Didn’t matter, his memories were stolen
Desire what fated his appearance, dissimulation
And hate was all he could share for you
When you embellished his empty heart
But there were other things to keep him, unheard
A man consumed by wanderlust, he knew to be gone.


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