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Ballad of Ropes
4 years of age when that day came.
I received the news,
life would never be the same
when I lost the one, I’d never want to lose.
4 years of age, all my family came
to my house, with its walls of pale, faded blues
to lament the death of my father, from whom I got my name.
They all came. They paid there dues.
His was a death by rope,
that old, frayed rope hung taut,
because in life, he had lost all hope.
So he left, without a thought.
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