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Louise Bogan - Cassandra
Work rating: Low

To me, one silly task is like another. 
I bare the shambling tricks of lust and pride. 
This flesh will never give a child its mother,— 
Song, like a wing, tears through my breast, my side, 
And madness chooses out my voice again, 
Again. I am the chosen no hand saves: 
The shrieking heaven lifted over men, 
Not the dumb earth, wherein they set their graves.
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