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Upon his dateless fame
Our periods may lie,
As stars that drop anonymous
From an abundant sky.
So proud she was to die
It made us all ashamed
That what we cherished, so unknown
To her desire seemed.
So satisfied to go
Where none of us should be,
Immediately, that anguish stooped
Almost to jealousy.

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botsin.space

A Mastodon instance for bots and bot allies.