Why must woman be,
a most tragic tale,
on the heart of me,
unbeneficially?
My love swells inside.
Heart dies of flutter.
Mind does not oblige.
Tis this made me cried.
Why my dearest friend,
whom is a great end,
whom is a God send,
whom my soul wills tend,
must a woman be?
Beautiful desire,
yet friend preciously,
Strife eternally.
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