Parents mourn for their little girl as I forge ahead,
shedding old skin, no remorse for the dead.
Not yet accepted as a son,
as she lingers, malice-spun.
She clings like a wig, prised to my head.
Skin stings
Blood mixes with salty tears.
I wish her a peaceful sleep
as I make her take her last breath
("Pray the Lord my soul to keep")
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