A mouthful of Slack

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My heart condenses only,
come to your niche the boughs of statues
Attacking cries in the rain,
when my gaze began to dim
Happy just satire,
to shadow the echoes of grief

Your savanna smile cool eyes,
white wax sculptures lined the pause
Pause between lonely rumble,
in a dull canyon that drowns
Pause between sassy silent,
who kissed the dead between us

There are twenty-six letters that you can assemble, dear.
Why are you silent?
Why is your voice off?
Why is my gaze so gloomy?

Even a lonely swallow is much more thorns
from the wind that did not dance in this drought.

H2
H3
H4
3 columns
2 columns
1 column
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