My Mark
They interfered in love's true name. Their lies they reared, made purity shame. A mark is left upon my hand where love's true ring affirms it's stand. That mark, a scar of slanderous cause give's me this thought where I now pause... When e'er they ask, "What scars has she?" say, "One left Mark who never could be." And at my wedding, Mark, my man, was he who innocent I am from first to last of all he'd be, a scar is left where took were we, where took were we from there to here, through deaths... Sign in to see full entry.