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These hands art weary from
Juggling heavy tribulations
Thrown towards Me at supersonic
Speed
By life and humanity, working
In harmony, snatching away
Whatsoever joy comes my way
At any given moment
Of course.

Today is but a twin of yesterday,
Bearing the same cruel whip
My back has tasted far too
Many times.

Each chapter thus far, chronicling
My accounts I narrowly endure is
Penned by Yahweh,
The author behind my hardships.

Whilst optimism screams Into
My stubborn ears, logic persuades
Me my final chapter will be much
The same.
So Let me burn my partial
Story, Prematurely.
I hath taken a liking unto musing
Upon a discrete cliff
Leaning over the edge of Britain's
Borders so much so,
That troubles nostrils
Grow numb upon days
Devoted in sheer solitude
Unto that cliff housing peace,
Content and their daughter,
Stillness.
Self reflecting skips not
A day without moving me
To revisit the works of
Mine fingers I bury in shame
With pride, seconds after my
Fragile mind gives
In to Intrusive thoughts
Repulsive unto my
Well being.
Earth flows with an
Abundance of native matter
Throughout her body
To silence our bellies and
Bring to life, key necessities
Imagined from the vast mind
That wills so.

But greed continues to
Be embraced by men
Numb to empathy, who sadly
Struggles to warm our cold
Hearts of stone.
Spring had not yet bloomed
When news of thy life,
Uprooted by thine own hands
Traveled swiftly to poke my wounds,
Hours after thy desire for us
To be one, could not be,
Though you knew within thee
I was bound by lord duty,
To take a strange lover at odds
With my character, you
Reflected so well.
I love you,
For thy love stands firm
Upon the summit of grace
Unbent to fickle nature, burning
In vain to defile that which makes
Thee,
Altogether ideal I Instinctively,
Fall short to mirror.

While I was drowning in
Mine sins you stretched
Out thy right hand unto me,
Unbinding her age-old grip
Over me, for good.
Thank you.

Her scent is forgotten,
Mine flesh made clean,
How warming to
Know,
He deems me family.
Endless questions do I hath
For thee;
To The One who's ways are higher
Than mine,
But a few from many stick out
To me,
One of which concerns mankind,
Who's naturally compelled to
Wound thine soul.
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