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Poetress2 Nov 2019
My God is such a great God,
He loves me very much;
How do I know He cares for me,
I feel it in His touch!
My God can perform miracles,
He does it everyday;
He wants the best for you and I,
in every single way.
My God gives to me Blessings,
according to His Will;
His love is never ending,
His Grace is truly real.
My God is most remarkable,
and in Him I do trust;
I could not live without Him,
His prescence is a must!
Poetress2 Nov 2019
When I think of what, a Mother is;
You are at
the top,
of the most special list.
Your touch is as soft,
as a fluffy, white cloud;
I'm always Blessed,
when you are around.
You always have time,
to spend with me;
You certainly are,
a Blessing indeed.
So on this Merry Christmas Mom,
I wish I could give you,
more than this song;
I'd give you the World, I'd give you the Stars,
and I'd help you to see,
how special you are.
Poetress2 Oct 2019
All throughout my darkest night,
shadows seem to come to life;
Closets house such ghastly things,
I see them in my every dream.
Demons gloat with every tear,
as they feed upon my hidden fears;
I shut my eyes with all my might,
as I have done throughout my nights.
The things of which I've seen and heard,
can't be described with just one word;
I can not take this very much more,
as howls cry out behind the door.
Poetress2 Oct 2019
"Give me your life,"
the Lord told me;
"And I will set,
your Spirit free.
I will fill your heart,  with wonderous peace;
I'll provide
for you, all of your needs.
I'll lift you up, should you e'er fall;
You'll always hear me,
when I call.
Always remember,
that I love you;
No matter what,
you say or do.
Now trust in me,
and do not fear;
For I am always,
very near."
Poetress2 Oct 2019
The cool, Ocean breeze,
is quite invigerating,
and calms my Spirit.
Poetress2 Oct 2019
Nestled in her Mother's womb,
she's beginning to run out of room;
She ***** her thumb without a clue,
of what is coming very soon.
To a clinic tomorrow, her Mommy will go, where she will be, ****** through a hose;
This child did not have a choice,
this child did not have a voice.
The day arrives when she will die,
the Doctor has at last arrived;
It's not too late to change her mind,
and on the wall, the clock chimes nine.
A hose is inserted,
inside the womb,
it will all be over very soon;
The child winches away in pain,
her suffering is her Mother's gain.
Each piece of this child,
is ****** right out,
no one can hear her cries and shouts;
  The tears in her blue eyes can't be seen,
thanks to the horror,
of that ******* machine.
Poetress2 Sep 2019
A deadly Spider,
is the Wandering Spider;
death is imminent.
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