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The Man Who Cried (Fictional)

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One Night I couldn't sleep.
I thought I heard a man weep.
I got of my bed and drew my curtain.
And through the mist I was certain,
I saw a dark figure,
not smaller, not bigger,
but tall and thin
the moon was dim
but I could see
It wasn't just me,
A thick black cloak,
brushed past an old oak
His crystal tears fell on a hard stone,
and I heard a soft moan.
He lit a candle light
and I saw a sad sight
A fair maiden with such beauty priceless,
But she was pale and lifeless
And suddenly I knew why
This poor man did cry...





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