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Pauline Morris May 2016
Her eye's cast down like a beaten pup
She didn't dare bother looking up
She watched the ground, her every step
The anguish over her face just crept
The wind from her lips swept
The agonizing moans as she wept
What woeful sounds of regret
Her closet is bulging where the skeletons are kept

She had years ago, locked it up tight
Really late in the black of night
For even she couldn't stand the sight
She had already paid the price
So she figured she had the right
With those skeletons she could no longer fight

So every day she can be found
With her head firmly pointed down
Eyes forever fixated on the ground
Wearing her darkness like a shroud

— The End —