asking somebody for trustworthy wyes
they were black and so round
moving left and right like an eager hound
finding love and some trust
as her soul had had rust
she neither mourn or smile
her face was rapt and body docile
but her eyes spoke so much
they were shedding sorrow and pain
as they were angry and to god they complain
All i had seen were the eyes
asking somebody for trustworthy wyes
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