Tears that fall bluntly on a vast, deep lake.
Sad and alone, crying for what is at stake.
Desperate wails so sad, so blue.
Can you believe they are really about you?
As the rain starts to fall, she gazes upon her distorted features,
her face now looking more like a creature's.
What is it I possess,
that he does not like best?
Is it my eyes? My ears? My nose? My mouth?
What can it be the young woman asks?
The lake, for no one else was there to partake
in her sad little number of tears at the lake.
Surprise is what fills her when she hears a reply,
"Why wouldn't he love you? You're lovely in every way.
Please do not speak to yourself with such distaste and hate.
If he can not love you, worth it not is he.
He is blind, you see, no one is more beautiful than thee.
Someday, someday when he is gray and old,
Your name on his lips, in that form, they will mold."
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