Legend of the Night

Roaming the streets under the moonlight,

Is an Angel fallen, fallen from the light,

Her beauty and grace ever so remain,

visible even in the night,

Pureness marred by clots of shame.

With no one to answer her plight,

She fishes with a long hook,

Her soul now condemned for eternity,

Forgive her father, for she has sinned,

but work knows not morals,

And morals do not bring forth food.

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