She is not your bride.
Beware what you think is yours. Beware the thing you covet For it is mean and vicious: The whirlwind that you'll reap When the wind you sow With fearful eyes. Turn your face instead Downward to the dust. Lick it up. And remember From whence you came. You are not more than truth And it does not Court your fancies Nor pander to your lies.
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