Upon Your mercy, my sins find their boast,
A servant I am, knowing You heed the ghost.
Where beauty turned, I bled for love's sweet sting,
Alas, a wrathful glance, a half-closed host.
Tell the stone heart, your doorstep's cold embrace,
To see whose brow bows down in sacred space.
A seal of silence pressed upon my face,
What death has spoken, a perfect, final trace.
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