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A God that is Yours
Slender beams of light enter
this darkened chamber as I kneel,
always in pain, always a slave,
frozen here,
waiting.
Tortured forms wrought in panes of glass loom as
dust dances in the air,
forming an image in my mind,
penetrating my darkened soul.
Pain on a child's face.
I raise my head, now crying out for
this uncaring mortality.
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