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Ghazal 27 Because of my madness I am worthless to others the more I became the less I became A snare was set at the edge of my nest I had not yet flown and was captive No longer ask about those seekers of love time has illuminated their bodies of grief I kept writing the blood of my madness although my hands were lost in the writing Even now begging I’ve kept to my ways a lover I follow the smiles of the penniless |