Martyr


This lass who possesseth a vulnerable heart
For eternity feareth that her beau wouldst depart
He very well knowest how she was so thin-skinned
But his selfishness only blew her an ill wind. 

He loveth many women, but she was so blind
Kept repeating to herself, "Love is patient, love is kind,"
When he sayeth "I love you," all his sins she disregards
Love's such sweet sorrow, how come it is so hard?

Always grieving, she hath produced a pool of tears
Very well expressed are her misery and fears
His iniquity to her couldst cause her to always faint
But she loveth him so much, for his love she is a saint.

She kept having reveries of their wedding and church bells
But is very aversed to break free of her prison cell
He already thinketh of her as disgusting as tartar
Nonetheless she doth not mind, for his love she is a martyr.

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