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Discontent, like a lover With their clothes on She does not ask or think Of what may have been If she was somewhere else In another bed, in another's Arms, but there is this Shadow that she cannot escape A cloud of misery, that refuses To have any company in sight And in it she suffocates Like she's underwater Held down by hands She can only assume to be Her very own pale ones Or stuck in some terrible fire That was started by someone She loves very much so And that makes it so much Worse than it should have been