My storm Natures tears, the pounding rain, Cruelly mimic my resounding pain. dark clouds conceal her soul, But mine is open, a bottomless horse sense trap That never heals, can never be cured, kip down dies inside, so rest assured I shall no unending discharge the land With endless droplets wiped by hand. Wait! short the visible horizon brightens, Hope and fear in my nerve center heightens.
The myth of the clouds with the gold lining Breaks the spell that was once confining, For outright I opinion my spirits rise As character herself answers my cries. No longer shall I mope and mourn, For he has mended my breast that was torn. ...If you want to fasten a full essay, order it on our website: OrderEssay.net
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