Would it be fair
To chain my thoughts upon a page,
In shackles black and bound in course
For far-off destinations,
And such vague misdirections
As they've already perceived?
Not once or twice
But a thousand times released
By foul hands and hearts of grey,
All with eyes to match these darker shades,
Where summoned once or twice
Might find some purpose, some redress
Or solace in an unlit place.
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