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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Death >> ID #1398531 |
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There I sit dressed up in black,
Eyes are fixed so I don’t crack. They say a prayer, sing a song; I’ll just sit, I must be strong; I won't cry, I won't be stirred. Stranger speaks, but empty words; Who is he? I do not care! He can’t know our true despair. How can this mean anything? No saddened thoughts does it bring. I cannot feel, not today, I can’t cry this pain away; Not like those who bow their heads, Don’t I care that she is dead?
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