Her Majesty

I died so many times just about to meet you,
Fell on the ground as i cowardly tastes my death,
That i shall dance in such sweet sorrow,
There she stare,
That she burns me digging my own grave,
Close as she is that i tremble and shiever,
How she leaves me speachless?
That her eyes sends me off my grave,
Good Lord save me,
Thy shall pity the silence of my sufferings.

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