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trouble in tibet.

curiosity confined
as heavy weapons wield the mind
no white flags, wave; enslave, enslave
i'll be the flowers on my grave
oh no, no ground will keep me down
i'll steal the jewels from my crown
reverse this verse from frown to smile
i'll be the breath you'll bake in, while
each tongue-twirled word i'd never say
speaks needles in my hay.

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