Make my sorrow pride.
Enter me with light.
Mourning turns to morning,
Or so I would believe.
Reach me with your tide.
Inundate this blight.
Awake me with no warning,
Lest I stay to grieve.
Deaf, dumb, blind inside,
All I crave is night,
Yet too frail to leave.
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Poems.md 2007-2008.
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