Formed figures feel no pain
Their souls find shelter from the red rain
Clay built from clay to remold earthen masks
Concealing foul faces drunkenly cast
Nights shine darker
Pale clay grows starker
And strong comes the opium
Into a love melted utopian
Love from the poppy
It's love's mold the seeds copy
And clay melts to mold
Useless, ancient, old
And so love the forms
Sanguine in red storms
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