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A Ballad of Sorrow and Woe
I was born crying.
The cold air burnt fresh pink skin.
Until then,
I had only known warmth.
I had only known safety and peace.
I was born crying.
My tears so frequent
they left scars on my cheeks,
staining my untouched flesh
shades of crimson and cruelty.
I was born crying
and I haven't stopped.
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