Home ยป My Dear

And all ye who come and stay,
The muse that parts at bay,
This lint of cloth away
Could never pour my heart away,
In an ocean of tears I obey,
This lasting word I come to say:
Woman. The start and end of strife.
In whom I trust ye more than life,
This change brought is bittersweet,
For even honey can never be sweet.
My dear, who could never be fooled,
This night I give more than tooled,
And accept my state no man can see;
Round them I am but not just me,
The art of this magic I then bestow
Shall give you more than dainty glow.
Must I recite the verse that make me man?
Must I relinquish all that make me man?
For I am neither man nor woman before you,
And I hope you feel the same way too,
Nor shall you grow from hate to this,
Would I not seek my life through this,
That I shall succumb to you and sleep,
Then you shall awaken me with greater weep.

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