Life is not made of great As I, in fact everyone, Err through the definition of mortality Moments in times where days are full of stubburnness No assistance from others to thicken the frustration lines No instances are fine - - Sitting at dinner table alone, Feet horizontally to the maple floor, Hands plastered vertically Minds focused with internal body Eyes shut: "God, lend me a sword Or a voice to correct The mistakes of my Life - Doubt tomorrow Will be the cycle of today - Next sun ray, Things will be unorganize And unstable - My Savior, Give me advises To define, To unitized This indefinite aches?" God is a perfect word to heal the mourn And, My questions were silently born - -
Reason for writing:
prayers will helpBirth sign: Scorpio
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