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monsters

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A wither'd waste of sullen day
Wave heavy hands who flit away
To drop into the earth
The wing and what it's worth
I'd say
~
These fell'd, dead flies abound the floor
Their dead fly meat attracting more
But darker things have died
For things less lack-of-tried
I'm sure
~
But bit of bone to hang it taut
Went wound the wire fire brought
So sear'd the sudden sun
Did do what we had done
I'll not
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