She was found to wilt .
With words she scours .
Ivory towers .
The thick walls she built .
Well tarnished with guilt .
She hides , she cowers .
In empty bowers .
With her red wine spilt .
She can never sip .
And she has not health .
She's buttoned her lip .
She hears no one else .
In walls ten miles thick,
she grieves for herself
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SugarCoatedDiarrhea
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