I was the little mouse hiding from hungry cats.
Sounds of gunshots filled the air.
My baby kicking like an electric zap.
I could hear the sound of people screaming in agony. ...
LADY, in thy proud eyes
There is a weary look,
As if the spirit we know through them
Were daunted with rebuke
To think that the heart of man henceforth
Is read like a read book.
Lady, in thy lifted face
The solitude is sore;
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