Beautiful death,With a time, to an hourglass,There is sand, that trickles, past my form,Sculpted, as the David, and crucified,For the sins, of a one.Woman! My love, you are, as death,Never lifted aboveThe closeness, to poverty. With each groan, in savage pain,You remain enticed, by loathing.So much pain,Has crossed, your eager mind.So much shame,Has made itself,

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