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Bugs.

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Their grasp is shaken;
and their tears roll
like little bugs
that gnaw at your soul.
They wonder and they shake,
together bid the night
with empty voices
and the devil's delight.
Hopeless, they cry,
and Forever they say
and always is when
the sad victims pray.
On a moonlit night
they dwell on the dark
with so much to lose,
they swallow its stark.
They promised to try,
but unsolved she will lay,
on a cold naked bed
far, far away.



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