Poor sweet fellow lonely soul
That yearns for my love as I do yours
Can't you see that a love so sweet
Requires a boundless toll?
Of these funds I have been drained
For giving love that was in vain.
Now poor rose that longs to bloom,
I beg you, lock yourself inside a tomb
And let the voices of the dead
Comfort you.
For though our love can never be,
Death, too, is a wondrous mystery,
And perhaps within its hollow core,
Love itself exists
Forevermore.
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