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Untitled

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 seduce me to their funnel, Yet still Your light punctuates my tunnel.
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Written by
christina-grewelle
American
Published
Nov 7, 2011
Lines·Words
10·57
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