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His FateHis fate was one of anguish; The melancholy arabesqueTrilled by a cricketBefore hurling into theAvid hands of deathHis fate was not of deathBut a perpetual h**lProduced by himselfAnd the apparitions of hisUnwholesome imagination His fate was the hours encaged in a sacrilegious abyssEloped with the darknessAn unholy matrimony;Attended by noneWhat can I do to improve this poem and make it sound darker?
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