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Child slain and smothered as you, a father, delay in mourning.
You lay your hand upon hers, she turns to stray, in morning.
A woman who said the words that solidify emotion
Deserted all those who reciprocated and now pray in mourning.
You watch green eyes fade as you tuck child into grave
Never again to dry them as only a quay in morning.
Nothing but you, a Father, and your heart and your brain
as you look down a pistol to contemplate in mourning.