As she dispatched her tears they ran down her sorrowful face while holding on to her grief in a hopeless embrace.
In misery and despair we temper are minds trying to relive the past.
In a wake of laughter and rejoice for all Chatholic believe good souls go to heaven and not hell.
With no littled eyes with a sense of no misdirection with affections of the heart.
She felt time moved in a mysteries light that brightened up a dark night.
With sensations of tempered relief do we only believe what the eyes truly see.
So hide no truths and bare no lies away from all those angry women and guys.
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 5:29 PM UTC
As she dispatched her tears they ran down her sorrowful face while holding on to her grief in a hopeless embrace.
In misery and despair we temper are minds trying to relive the past.
In a wake of laughter and rejoice for all Chatholic believe good souls go to heaven and not hell.
With no littled eyes with a sense of no misdirection with affections of the heart.
She felt time moved in a mysteries light that brightened up a dark night.
With sensations of tempered relief do we only believe what the eyes truly see.
So hide no truths and bare no lies away from all those angry women and guys.
This poems about anger and what lengths do we take to satisfiy out grief. While we touch words of our gracious relief to unburden our hearts and minds