Dull, sunless months suffering penniless under coin-metred light
Crocuses showing despite, sun-summoned
Rice white the blindeye-like snowdrops probe impolitely
Light-impelled, the breathless writer so lacking in editors
Slathers menacing patterns upon the mud abutting the delta
Stars not unlike me on the underside of the robe of night.
Go out and shine no matter how you feel inside, you sinner;
You never see a passing butterfly stopping to eye a mirror.
Alchemisland 
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