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Fragmented Self who wanders through life like a dreamer and wades through the river of dreams as though it were the only truth left in this world
Poetry Mash
I covet the rain, my lowly mistress.
May she smite me sweetly for my selfishness.
I wish it not to shine upon this face e'er again.
Do not allow the light to touch me.
I shall hide away for'er,
and worship her alone.
Bless me with rain, my love.
Bless me and die.