Notes
alas, thou hath left me with those arms of nettles that clutch with such incredible will; he exhausts me in the silence,
short breath conceal to plumes of frosted air,
there is nothing.
i am not afraid.
alas, thou hath left me with those arms of nettles that clutch with such incredible will; he exhausts me in the silence,
short breath conceal to plumes of frosted air,
there is nothing.
i am not afraid.
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