I'm through. My word. Will it go on?
                        Not gone…
                     I'm out. My dream. Will it touch anyone?
                            Not done…
              I'm blank. My kiss. Will it die unknown?
                                Not alone…
       I'm lost. Change? Good or bad, overblown.
           Do tell them, love, what all I've written down
           if but to keep some scrap of me around —
                                       not gone, not done, not alone.


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