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...even unbelieving prayer
muttered with quiet resigned breaths
can not foretell or forestall stains...
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131464
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This year I did not markthe day of your death.I let it slip by in an afternoonfilled with music you'll never hear,words you'll never read,a chorus of voices raised in protestat the unwavering passage of time.I don't need a numberto know that you are gone.Since you went…
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