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21 I Am Proud Death you make me proud! And stack me a crowd! With your bees to sting, With your snakes biting, Where gloating vultures, Beacon dream matures For thirsty leeches With lengthy speeches To convince sucking As good as docking A ship a strange port Being the best of sport. Death, must I wear pride, My gown like a bride’s Snow pure with whiteness You don’t want to witness Goaded it’s my dream Drowning me down stream With you oblivious But flagging devious Incisors to blight Innocence at night Whence you shall fall short And shall face the odd? 22 Why should I be pricked? I know yours all bleak! I wake up bemused. Your dreams are reduced Tatters to ribbon Bits tickling gibbons Screaming off their lungs Chanting happy songs Lulling baby me With no busy bee To steal or kill my Calm near where you lie. Lie. Yes! Death you lie! Life shall live not die! Returns I’ve witnessed Table you slyness Slicing in halves grains Men sow for great gains With thoughts such a fall Shall make you stand tall The height above you I see soaring too Lifting up my heart As you fall apart. ...

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