Betrayal's Begotten
So far, they go -
A distant throw -
Down simple snow -
Forgotten.
And yet, a maid -
Through crime, parade -
And riches swayed -
Ill-gotten.
The weak confide -
Then run to hide -
To turn the tide -
Now rotten.
A dream, they’ll fade -
The cuts, been made -
No chance, persuade -
Stained cotton.
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