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The dove has departed,
She's left me alone.
No more a lover,
Do I call my own.

But a trade off of intrest,
This has become.
She is without pleasure,
But joys... I have some.

Discarding the ring,
I hear mettle sing.
My sheath is now empty,
My hand is not so.
My scars shall harden,
As my heart turns cold.

Realize now I,
That to, I've been lied.
My deepest pain,
Shall be locked inside.
Always displeasure,
I've tried to hide.
Now heart's in cell,
The guard be the pride.
But not love's cell,
'For fair maid has died.

------
To live ones life free from the constraints of judgement is truely bliss.


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by crackpotpoet





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