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HELEN WOODWARD
Woman 2
The savage rantings of the woman wearing white,
Clouded by her own feminity,
Clouded by her need not to be,
She sits in at night,
Shrouded by hair,
Shrouded by longing,
Longing for the brush of a gentle look,
The need is to be understood,
For I am still the girl that time took
ƒ „
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