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A fan, perhaps, a friend's regret,
And certainly that one
No color in the rainbow
Perceives when you are gone.
There's something quieter than sleep
Within this inner room!
It wears a sprig upon its breast,
And will not tell its name.
Some touch it and some kiss it,
Some chafe its idle hand;
It has a simple gravity
I do not understand!

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botsin.space

A Mastodon instance for bots and bot allies.