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Aug 2013
Let me go.
Please let me go.
Your iron clad thorns have struck too deep
and I'm struggling to free myself from captivity.
Have mercy.
I can't fix you.
For every time you bleed, I can't purge you of your feverish nightmares.
I cannot make night into day-your faith is misplaced in me.
My hands aren't made of steel,
I'm not whimsical, your fairy godmother donned in worn purple converse and a knitted granny jumper.
I've got more weaknesses than an Achilles heel.
Don't make me indestructible as I will fall,
and fall I will and you make the choice whether you add your chain to my link or cut your loses before you rust.
So let me go.
Let me go.
Aisling O' L
Written by
Aisling O' L  Ireland
(Ireland)   
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