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Gifts.

But he never takes away,

It is not in his nature to bereft,

He gives generously, grandly,

Relentlessly, always.

Everlasting, from age to age.

 

It is balm, they say.

Why is there dismay?

How could you, why should you?

Embrace it like rain.

Absolute no disdain.

But pain, pain, pain.

 

Heralds these gains.

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Written by
lemongrass-1
Published
Oct 24, 2024
Lines·Words
12·53
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