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Requiem Internal
Die fame, tarnish money, blaze glory,
No parting marble obelisk is sought,
Rests simple man, with un-convoluted story,
No ceremony filled with black, just thought,
If one endows glad tears or crescent lips,
In journey towards a favoured ancient land,
On thoughts sunk deep and ever sharpened quips,
There, scatter wildflowers with my mind in hand,
A.T.G.