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| The damsel in distress lay all alone in her bed unable to comprehend why no one would understand. Her love was gone Her heart undone what else for her was to come? She lay still, without will, feeling nothing but ill. Nothing was ideal, only surreal What else could she conceal? She longed to see the light once more. Longed for the wind to blow her hair most of all. Desired to once again breathe the nature's sweet odor. How could someone deny this to her? The suffering was now pride Drenched in a single and lonely life, Unable to fall aside, for it was now her only light. And so the damsel in distress lay all alone in her bed enticed to kill nothing but her own will. |