Fair weather friend,
Thou art a beguiling trench
So deep your carvings burrow
That the gorge, like a ghost's cravenly respite,
Stares at my face every morn and night,
And I, a childless brazen woman,
Wander along the narrow path of servility
Of fear and pain,
And the nuances of passion
Has desiccated my body
To a state of apathy
That is forever succumbing
To what...
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