IV To lay, she was lead By her mother, but not to bed She flew Landing on morning dew "¡Mija! ¿'Stas bien?" The words of another's sin "¡Ay DIOS!" Shouting the most The moments stuttered Awaiting the slightest utter Once the words were enough The world picked up Continuing on that path Not phased by the wrath Brought on by sudden chance Leaving her never to dance
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