By Sister Agnes Lubricius (1955-2007)
Bleak and cold is my cell and my heart
But a bride of the Lord I am
Stale is my bread and the silence I dread
Austere is this life for The Lamb
The nights spend alone a hard cot is my throne
Its touch so ice-cold and blunt
This sinner’s life, with sorrow it is rife
Thank God I can play with my cunt.
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