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Woe's Trespass

Dim mirrors, pity, woe’s trespass,

And Heaven’s boiled stars.

A shattered home of fine stained glass.

All counted in my scars.


Page 120, of “Merry Meet and Merry Part”

© Aimee Wood 2025

Ch. 3: Decay or RunawayAimee WoodJuly 27, 2025Poem
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