To, Twas, Thee Night of My Soul
Thy Wishes, Succeed Thy Will,
Thee Precepass Of Thee, Undecided . . .
Twas Thee That entakes the Wound,
To impose onto Thee, Thrush,
Thy Wound is'en Extacey of Thy
Encombress . . .
Of Thy Soul
Copyright © Matthew Rozon | Year Posted 2018
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