before i sleep
while not one i do ponder though
what would be me if i had been
that patch of grass in a park of rose
all them shimmered brighter red than all them rest
then would you gaze upon me at all
a little ungrown patch of soil
if i had been i would be
a brown and not the least bit green
now would you dare to see
or would my sight - disfigured ugly be
in the sparkling beauty eye of my only thee
what if then a raven sat - with one eye bleeding least
and stabbed it's beak of slowly death
so early - yet years so little left
would you still, in yours my arm be held
soon on bed of mine i'd lie, in rotten stench and sweat
my lips would have dried, my breath would be but evil doubt
of pondering about - would you kiss mine before i left
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