I say to myself occasionally
Maybe an artist like you must be lone .
Perhaps instead of thinking you’re lovely
You should write and make a masterful song.
But did God create a being who could
Overflow in song and live without other?
The pang endures in night’s awaking cold
And threatens life’s fair light to come and smother.
Despair then taunts and builds hope to a fright
That it will die before ¬†true love’s first kiss.
Though it may sound abhorrent to true light
This magic is where she finds glory His.
The lone princess waits then for his advent
And prays to God the slayer has been sent.

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