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The Weeping

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Feel thou the pain with which I write these words
I shall weep until my tears run dry
See thou my blood in which I dip my pen
Each drop would I sacrifice gladly
For the gift of your presence at my side
Hear thou the cries forth from my lungs, the moans
Of a spirit separated from its soul
And from its heart
Death meets me in the air
Betwixt us both the scarlet thread of an Angel so dear
Visions overwhelming
For you my tears shall fall eternally.



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