The pain in the voice had someone felt,
Fall from grace, a day was ,hope wept,
Modesty, why art thou so close to the heart!
Behind quiet faces are such depths kept.
Strength corrupts but does weakness melt,
The price of honor of humanity bereft,
A day was it or providence so cold,
In the heart of man,the ugly animal left.
For I overheard dead men tell no tales,
Of lechery, the school of vile art,
In the arms of despair, hope pales,
Wanton abandon was my part.
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