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Written by Mushtaque B. Barq By gone air be on snail to find my stop again For maimed sponges have wiped out all my crop again. How now on the shelves are decked up wilted tulips The wandering wind has but ah! marked my shop again. The wood of worries have lost the safe keeping, ah! The silent sighs no more hold my desktop again. During the rain of serum the bubbles giggle Yet at the drop on mode mute was my plop again. The damp soil of this sold house serves none save sieved skulls The burden of books is now on my top again. The signature death is nursed by the dew In naughty infancy is my bebop again. Peeped through the old leak why prickly wandering wind In induced forty winks is but my cop again.

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