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The Periphery of her existence
Who shall I tell of this magnificence,
Lest I come out as being too overwhelmed,
Metaphors do not convey the essence,
For this beauty my very eyes beheld.
May I not be a sinner, slave to love,
But yet her eyes make me verily...
Lest I come out as being too overwhelmed,
Metaphors do not convey the essence,
For this beauty my very eyes beheld.
May I not be a sinner, slave to love,
But yet her eyes make me verily...
