Should you be cold, I will light the fire.

Vincent van Gogh,
Field with Flowers near Arles, 1888
All through the empty night I walked the dirt lane,
Feeling my way along with my cane, my eyes covered
By a white cloth tied around my head. Just for fun,
For a laugh, the executioner had set my cap on top of it,
To mock my worldly and pointless pride. Death followed,
Carrying that damn scythe. Crows came …
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