Spiritual and Inspirational poetry that touch the heart and soul, and provoke the mind.
Some days I’m glad
To see a weakening
A wasting of, the self
I’ve come to slay.
But there are other days,
I cannot comprehend,
How she who slays
Can be the slain.
Then all confused
I bind the self - inflicted
Wounds. And self - revived,
I live to die.
Go on to
THE LOOKING GLASS
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