About autismtoohuman
Of a poe-eh, like a flyer with their feathers in the light, is of birds and their trees, and the leaves, in the night; That do rustle and or’ flow over wind ever where that is seen in the visions of a man in the Mere: So is poems not his poems ‘til he borrows them, you see, From the patterns of the substance of the bird and the tree, And the cloud and the sky and the you and the me. For we know What we know only by that we Be…

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