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Potion of Healing
Come, come, this form of grand
Arise, the queen of hurt and can't
Towards my love your heart may prance,
Farther from whence your pain has danced-
Into my arms your silence speaks,
Woes sung low of stolen vanity,
May we last until death dies out,
Forever yet shall we stay soulbound.
Copyright ©
Isiah Morales
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