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She walks like a goddess of pain

But seemingly void of arrogance


Yet humble enough to parade her sins
All the filthiness inside her spawn
From her marrow to the ravens' beaks
Why should she like to lick the leaks
Of her obstinate mind and laugh on?
Was she acting to be corrupted or cleaned?
No one knows her gizzards' skin but one
Whose sheepish heart clothed in wolf's silk
Yet she only chew the meat before the milk
Proudly proclaimed to possess a love so true
And believed that no one should ever construe
The subtle quarels of her mind and heart!

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