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Dorothy Parker - The Second Oldest StoryDorothy Parker - The Second Oldest Story
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Go I must along my ways  Though my heart be ragged, Dripping bitter through the days,  Festering, and jagged. Smile I must at every twinge,  Kiss, to time its throbbing; He that tears a heart to fringe  Hates the noise of sobbing. Weep, my love, till Heaven hears;  Curse and moan and languish. While I wash your wound with tears,  Ease aloud your anguish. Bellow of the pit in Hell  Where you`re made to linger. There and there and well and well-  Did he prick his finger!
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