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Dec 2010
Worship inscribed on the soft of my wrist,
yet my heart feels pulled to the dismal abyss.
A faith, to be sure, and for love, I have tried.
But to Him I have sinned, and to Him, I've yet died.
I hold on to my longings, belongings, and nothing at all.
And further away, it seems that I fall.
Written by
MyThousandWords
567
   Beth Dyck
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