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her grace fell upon us,
stony, cold, stiff and stinging,
as she laughed at our ramshackled dreams,
kicking them about
with her gold plated stilleto heels,
a smile flashed across her face like a gleam of steel
- well done hair, her skin
smooth, garments glittering,
a woman with a trosseau of shrouds,
who spoke as if our wretched earth was made of cake,
indeed, she was our grace revelling in our shame
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