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My garden grows uncertain roses
And lilies pale, they hold no hue;
The unicorns surrender hope of virgins
And the wizard has no clue.
Chattering insects distract me,
And, though it's dark beneath my stone,
I am long past being dazzled
By this moon as white as bone.
All the enchanting angels
Who sing to me of my sins
Are no match for my demons
With their broad and luscious grins.
I gaze at my reflection
On the water's inky face,
Pondering all the darkness
Which first led me to this place.
In the valley there is uproar
And the villagers want my blood;
But I died, in that sense, long ago . . .
I thought they'd understood.
(c) 1996 J.L.Becker. All rights reserved.
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