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The Wish of Straw

June 11, 2013

I’ve read some poetry. It is all about a sin
And the sin is like a sort of freedom
Which is not on my way and is not my trim.
How people can themselves left of

How people can imagine they relaxed
If trying to reach the borders
Of simple, ordinary lust. It is lax
That is oppšosite of orders

That they put in front of themselves
Why a man make a low
Because he knows there’s nothing else
What could do. The wish of straw.
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