Of my love for her I may not sing
By
Tue, 28 Sep 2004
- 253 reads
Of my love for her I may not sing
Yet this cry within I must release
So, small, atop this cliff I stand
And the Atlantic gales I face.
Then, slowly, this knife I draw
And my pounding chest I slice.
Spray of agony gone
On wild unheeding wind.
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