the mourning
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waiting for the passing of the night
she lays restless on her pretty little head
in the dark, the boundless shadow
that has encompassed her living
realizing that there is no escape
from the agony that awaits
with the rise of the morn,
the continous mourning of each day
weeping willows billowing in the winds
her fate the will of the gods
her faith no longer in the heavens
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