September 19, 2012
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Poetry is merely the frivolity of the romantic,
A distraction, a florid indulgence, an expression
Of feeling which masks the piercing arrow
In a flourish of crafted consciousness,
Mere embellishments of the truth wished for pen to impart to paper.
Only those upon whom Lady Wisdom has lavished great gifts
May hope to tell whether my glorified scribble will convey any of my affections
To you.

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