All agog with expectation,
Had sent her an invitation
Hoping surely she’d come,
Hug me like a dearest chum,
Give my soul a permanent relief,
Rid of worldly loathsome belief,
But like an ever stern donna
Who brutally crushes what I wanna
Turn’d down mocking the invitation, for
She couldn’t come at the hour premature,
Left the hapless and lonely soul
On weary shoulders to bear the whole
Spurn’d weight of the distressed life,
Death as a discordant, imaginary wife.
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