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you'll see this demon's teeth-
this wraith long at bay-
as she rises from the ground:
a frozen mist in the tired night.
a fiend formed from spite-
emotion hung like a ruddy wreath
bound across a mouth desperate to say:
"it is he you looked for, but me you found."

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The true philosopher and the true poet are one, and a beauty, which is truth, and a truth, which is beauty, is the aim of both.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, American Poet (1803-1882)

jonathonca’s Poems (8)

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