It is sometime since I have been
to what it was had once turned me backwards,
and made my head into
a cruel instrument.
It is simple
to confess. Then done,
to walk away, walk away,
to come again.
But that form, I must answer,
is dead in me, completely,
and I will not allow it
to reappear
Saith perversity, the willful,
the magnanimous cruelty,
which is in me
like a hill.
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