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A Simple Poem
When poems appear simple and contrived,
They seldom mirror ample sweat deprived.
They succumb to near awful tales derived,
I know them and sneer at the drool revived.
Yet no pioneer found a jewel and thrived,
Without growing anguish to find their drive.
Sift thoroughly the stitch from false wounds I’ve
Fully shown. Nearer to heart distress survives.
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