Storming through this wicked mourn,
With a wounded and a broken heart.
It will soon consume it till it worn.
O, That vicious worm with a deceiving art.
Many times it crawled by my rough old skin,
Looking for a soft and fragile dent.
It attacked by laying its venomous sin,
Till it grows become an undesired gent.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
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