She waits.


She waits for a pledge of redemption

Her sins require such secular attention

with soulful sad eyes forever cast down

so there would be no-one to see the frown

That disolves away into broken tears

Merely an echoing throughout her years

So she sits, just patiently yearning

All the while knowing her soul is burning

in the making of her own personal hell

But there would be no-one to tell

If you look close the story rests her eyes

past the carefully made up lies

As she waits for her redemption

For her there is no ascension

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