T'was the fourteenth day of the fourth summer since I suffered the loss of my dear, sweet Marie,
I had become something that not even the noblemen had predicted me to be,
I locked myself away for longer than any man has,
Leaving my depression to grow into a mass,
not knowing that my loneliness was causing social deprivation,
I left myself until I developed a bittersweet sensation,
All of this deprivation deprived my heart of relaxation.
The sound of my dearest late wives voice echoed through my head,
And I wished for the sweet release of being dead,
Because at least then I'd be with my sweet Marie.
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