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Real
by:
Emily Dickinson
(1830-1886)
I like a look of agony,
Because I know it 's true;
Men do not sham convulsion,
Nor simulate a throe.
The eyes glaze once, and that is
death
.
Impossible to feign
The beads upon the forehead
By homely anguish strung.
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poems by Emily Dickinson