I wasn’t styled

And I look wild

Look at my face

Never was embraced

Growing up in the shop

Never bathed with soap

Don’t even have a friend

It is hard for me to blend

Because I can not pretend

And look like I am content

I have a wish:

To eat from my own dish

Sleep in my own bed

Where I can put down my head

This why I was bred

And find love and respect

With human beings I’ll connect

So, if there’s someone who hears

I beg you, wiping tears

Hope I will get an answer

By the way, my name is Spencer.

 

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The night is light and chill,

Stars are awake in the sky,

There’s a cloud over the moon;

Round the house on the hill

The wind creeps with its cry

Between a wail and a croon.

 

I hear the voice of the wind,

The voice of the wind in the night,

Cry and sob and weep,

As the voice of one that hath sinned

Moaning aloud in its might

In the night when he cannot sleep.

 

Sleep? No sleep is about.

What remembering sin

Wakes and watches apart?…

The winds wails without,

And my heart is wailing within,

And the wind is the voice of my heart.

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