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Masque From the very start Deep in her heart Are wiles And guiles To set her apart Is it such a task One might ask? That she will not And cannot Drop her mask To marry And yet parry Is just A ‘Must’ Vicary Shedding this armor Can harm her Yet held in place A covert face Will not disarm her The game Remains the same ‘Coying’ And Cloying Always - With no shame!

Masque  
Masque  

A short poem.

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