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Nov 2011
Bleak, black billows of discouragement
Toss over me like wily waves,
And I feel jostled and unjustified.
Reality of my fallen state
Heaps like bitter salt on a throbbing wound;
Tormented, tattered, torn.
Coursing through this madness
Blind to the next blow.
These tempest waters ****** me to their funnel,
Yet still Your light punctuates my tunnel.
Written by
Christina Grewelle
859
   Steven Martin, --- and JM
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