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EPITAPH
He
here,
before me
lies a
dead man.
I.
I have
created him
in my
own image.
A final breath
of blood
running to the roots,
I invite flies to my hide.
The elusive me
who
revels in prosperity
and is blinded with love.
Out of earth
I laugh solid gold,
shake
real yourself
and reveal
a world with fresh eyes.
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