| Just give me nails
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| To be my burden
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| Crucified emotions struggle to survive
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| And the truth, she has not heard for long
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| Cold and bare, but sacred?
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| Who has the guts to spread such lies
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| A picture of a willow — with a widow in black
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| A child ton bear — in blooming beauty
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| For she gave birth to dust
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| Roses covered by a layer of snow
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| Freezing wind surrounding
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| What you call holy feet
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| Just a child without a wooden cross
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| Afflicted hands towards heaven
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| How could you dare deny?
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| How can you blame a widow
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| For detesting who you are?
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| Bare of sore — touch naked boundaries
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| And empty hands — a widow’s life |