i am constantly devoid of assurance
that you trust me,
warranted,
and this fear is a
tender snare
hanging my neck, to death, with wool
i can in no way surmount the
catching up battle
of victory against loss
and sloth against pace
all of history mounts against me
and i deserve the dissaproval
and i understand the resentment
and i require suspicion
here i am, your secretive daughter
immoral, deceitful, misguided
and from you i came

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