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Of Queens And Pain Arts 

Of Queens And Pain

The sorrow and pitch of the howling bale Tears my soul apart As I whisper to myself under the hood, the midnight’s veil: ‏ O, Queen of love Queen of pleasure My kingdom offered and your King in measure ‏ And with grace such Beneath the white moon that bends my sorrows and filled misery A heart, bleeding, in ruins I beg, fancy these words echoed from my welling heart Within the white that wends Weaved from my soul and strewn and with bared countenancy with love and grace, eternally…

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